


A Hundred Meetings

by birdybirdnerd



Series: A Hundred Continuities [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Pendragon - D. J. MacHale
Genre: AU, AU where they work at a publishing company?, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Hackers, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Alternate Universe- Aliens, Alternate Universe- Assassins Creed, Alternate Universe- Wedding?, Alternate Universe- Wrong Number, Cafe AU sorta, Christmas Lights, Humor, M/M, Past Press/SD, Saint Dane is a flirty motherfucker sometimes, alternate universe- pirates, minor Aja/Nevva, that one where bobby is a letsplayer bc why the fuck not, there are so many alternate universes in here holy fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6459157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdybirdnerd/pseuds/birdybirdnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In one universe, they met as enemies on the battlefield for everything they knew. </p><p>This is a collection of others. Other times, other meetings, other universes where they didn't have to fight and maybe, just possibly, fell in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Writers

**Author's Note:**

> I am in Grade A Hell. Hell Plus. Premium Hell. And I'm dragging y'all down with me. 
> 
> On the 15+ hour drive home from Pennsylvania, I found a list of first meeting AUs, and fell in love. I wrote this one out quickly and sent it to lordsmellymort, who proceeded to freak the fuck out. I've decided to do more. 
> 
> A hundred situations, a hundred meetings. 
> 
> Here we go.

"Greetings, Pendragon. By your confused and lost look I can see you are new here. I am the assistant manager of the editorial department where you will be working, so you will be answering to either me or Tilton. My name is Saint Dane, and welcome to Solara Publisher's."  
  
Bobby burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. How the guy in front of him managed to say all that so professionally, with such a deadpan _bored_ look on his face, was just hilarious. And his _name_. "Seriously?" he asked between giggles. "Okay, nice stripper name, but what's your _real_ name?"  
  
The man gave Bobby the foulest glare he could manage while still feigning disinterest. It was surprisingly effective. "That _is_ my name."  
  
The humor of the situation disappeared so fast Bobby got whiplash. "W-What?"  
  
"Close our mouth before you stick your other foot in it."  
  
His jaw snapped shut. "Shit man, I am _so_ sorry," he said quickly. "I just- it's just that I haven't met too many people with ah, a name that, well, usually 'Saint' is a title? And having it as a first name is kinda weird- I mean, not _weird_ , but different. Interesting. Unusual. Not that I'm saying you're unusual, I just mean that I've never heard a name like that and your eyes are the brightest blue I've ever seen and, and, uh..." He trailed off, blushing brightly. His mouth closed awkwardly again before even more embarrassing word vomit came out.  
  
Saint Dane was just smirking. "As if you are one to talk about odd names, _Pendragon_."  
  
"Hey! It's a respectable name, with ancient origins."  
  
"As you wish, _my_ _prince_."  
  
"I am insulted," Bobby said, feeling his blush lessen at the easy banter. "I'd consider myself nothing less than a king."  
  
Saint Dane laughed. "Quite the humble one, you are. So what was that about my eyes?"  
  
Aaand the blush was back. He'd been hoping the man hadn't caught that. "It was nothing," he stammered. "You just, say weird things sometimes, right? I tend to ramble around people I've just met, and sometimes I say things I don't mean, so let's just forget that happened okay?"  
  
"What, so my eyes _aren't_ pretty?" Saint Dane asked, that damned smirk growing.  
  
"N-No!" Bobby shouted, cursing himself as he dug himself into a verbal hole. "That's not what I meant! Your eyes are beautiful- I mean, they're pretty okay, I guess." Bobby shook his head. "That's not the point! I'm sorry. _God_ , I'm such an idiot."  
  
Saint Dane's smirk nearly split his face in half at that point. He crossed his arms. "Well I won't argue that."  
  
"Dane, quit flirting with my nephew." Press walked up, interrupting their conversation. Bobby sighed in relief at the apparent godsend.  
  
"I was doing no such thing," Dane protested lightly. "I was merely watching on in amusement as Pendragon fumbled through what seemed his first conversation with an attractive man."  
  
"I assume said man walked off before I entered?"  
  
Dane huffed. "My gratitude, Tilton."  
  
At this point Bobby had buried his face in his hands and started praying for some heavenly intervention to take pity on his poor soul and obliterate it. Having the ground swallow him up would have worked, too. He wasn't particularly picky. Instead he finally looked up when his uncle pat his shoulder in sympathy.  
  
"So you are the famed nephew of Press Tilton," Dane said, appraising the shorter man in front of him.  
  
Bobby nodded awkwardly, smartly keeping his mouth shut this time. Didn't want any more foot-in-mouth business.  
  
He hummed. "I see where you get your smooth way of talking from. Tilton was much the same way when we first started working together. Couldn't look me in the eye for a week after I caught him staring at a _certain_ part of my lower body."  
  
Bobby didn't think he'd ever seen his uncle actually blush before, but now he was red to his roots. It was kind of funny.  
  
"Wh- I- _Dane!_ " Press spluttered. "That was three years ago! Would you stop bringing it up?"  
  
"Not until you stop doing it."  
  
Bobby howled with laughter as his uncle stomped off, muttering under his breath and still beet-red. He had to lean on the wall for support or his legs would have given out. Seeing someone who was usually so cool, so suave, so sure-footed, actually _lose_ his footing and get flustered like that was fucking _hilarious_.  
  
Bobby felt the other man lean against the wall next to him. He wiped the tears from his eyes and rubbed his aching sides. Glancing over, he saw that Dane was casually examining his nails.  
  
"All joking aside, I am technically your superior, which means you will obey me." He pushed off from the wall and stared Bobby down. "You will make it your job to follow the rules I set down to the mark, no matter your thoughts or opinions. The only one who can rescind my authority is your uncle."  
  
"You're such a nice guy," Bobby said sarcastically.  
  
"Thank you." Either Saint Dane didn't notice the sass or chose to ignore it, but he continued anyway. "I've set down a lot of rules and regulations and such, but I've a meeting with some up-and-coming author in ten minutes, and honestly, dinner would be a better place to discuss such topics." He pulled a notepad and pen somewhere out of his black suit and scribbled something down. With a flourish, Dane tore off the top sheet and tucked it in Bobby's shirt collar. "Remudi from accounting runs a wonderful little seafood place with his son on the corner of Fifth and Willow. Meet me there at five thirty and we'll talk."  
  
And then he was gone. Bobby sat there, mouth open, not fully comprehending the fact that his technical boss - whom he'd just met for the _first time not five minutes ago_   - had just asked him on a date. No, he'd _demanded_ they go out. Dane had basically set the whole thing up so Bobby couldn't refuse, then whisked off in an over-dramatic flair of probably-dyed silver hair.  
  
When his brain finally decided to restart, Bobby plucked the piece of paper from his collar and unfolded it. On it was a number, a name, and a delicately scrawled note:  
  
 _"I look forward to working with you, Bobby."_


	2. Of Cafés

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of café AU, came out more of a sundae shop/bakery AU. Idk. 
> 
> This one got a lot longer than originally planned. 
> 
> I also can't help it with the company/business name puns based off Pendragon apparently :D

The bell above the door dinged. Bobby quickly shoved his phone in his pocket and whipped around, plastering a giant smile on his face as he did so. “Hello! Welcome to- oh.” He stopped, the fake grin falling. “It’s just you.”

Spader dropped his bag on the bar counter and plopped into a seat. “ _Just_ me? Wow, I feel so appreciated.”

“You know what I mean,” Bobby said, laughing. “Thought you were a customer. We’ve had a pretty slow day today and seriously need the money.”

“You guys still going through that then?” Spader asked.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” Bobby sighed and pulled out his phone again. “My uncle’s getting worried we might have to close up shop soon if we don’t get any more customers.” He idly flicked through his email as he spoke. “He’s thinking there might be another place that opened up nearby that people are going to, that’s taking business away from us.”

“Or it could just be that Starbucks down the street.”

Bobby glared. “Okay first of all, Starbucks is for coffee. We’re pretty much a glorified ice cream parlor that just so happens to sell baked good on the side. Second of all, fuck you.”

Spader shrugged and stood up. “Whatever, mate. I just stopped by to say hi and use your bathroom. I got to get to work soon or me boss’ll drown me in the kiddie pool.”

He disappeared around the corner into the back and Bobby sighed again. He slumped against the counter, his head in his arms, watching the trees sway in the breeze outside the window. The air conditioning unit turned on, the quiet hum breaking the silence. His phone buzzed next to his head with an incoming message from his friend, Mark. He swiped the screen to open it, when the bell above the door jingled again.

Bobby’s head shot up, the phony smile returning. “Hello!” he said brightly. “Welcome to Solara Scoops. Our special today is mint chocolate chip, and every bowl comes with a free croissant on the side, baked fresh this morning. May I take your order?”

The man standing in front of him, bright blue eyes glued firmly to the iPad in his hand, looked so out of place that Bobby almost stumbled giving his well-rehearsed line. He managed to keep on track, and stood in silence with that awful fake grin plastered on his face as the man idly browsed the menu above his head. Bobby tried not to fidget awkwardly when those intense eyes locked on him.

"I'll have the strawberry shortcake, please," he said. "And a cup of Oolong tea, if you don't mind." He didn't catch Bobby's shocked look, as his eyes were already back on his tablet, where he began to type something out. He turned from the counter and went to sit at a table near the window.

Bobby finally jumped into gear and went about preparing the man's tea, then opened the display case and grabbed a slice of the strawberry shortcake, as per the order. He snagged a fork from the bin on his way. Setting down the treat, he said "Here you go, sir. Your tea will be right up."

"Thank you." The man clicked off his tablet and picked up the fork. He looked up. "What are you still doing here?" he asked irritably.

"Oh, sorry!" Bobby rushed away, back to the counter, where he busied himself with the cup and saucer and stuff. He kept sneaking glances up at the man, who still looked like he belonged in one of the Matrix movies, rather than a cheery little ice cream parlor. His dark suit had no visible markings, and long silver hair cascaded down his back. He was missing the black shades, but fit the part other than that. Bobby wouldn't have been surprised if he picked up a phone and disappeared.

The Keurig beeped and Bobby took the cup, walking slowly over to the man's table so as not to spill anything. He set it down and folded his hands behind his back. "Anything else, sir?"

"That will be all. Thank you."

And he was back to being ignored. Bobby was fine with that. He went back to his post behind the counter and busied himself cleaning up, wiping down already-clean counters as he covertly watched the man eat. He kept typing things out on that iPad of his, long fingers flying across the surface. Then he would take a sip of his tea, or a dainty bite of his pastry, and go back to typing. Whatever he was doing must have been important. Maybe he was the CEO of some big company?

Not too much time passed until the man was done. He looked up and caught Bobby's eye - he _totally_ hadn't been staring the whole time - and nodded, signaling he was ready for the check. Bobby brought it over, hands folded politely as the man signed it and dropped some bills onto the counter. He left without a word.

Bobby looked at the name on the receipt. "Saint Dane?" he said. "Huh."

"You’ve got it bad, mate."

Bobby spun around. He'd forgotten Spader was there. His friend was leaning casually against the door to the back, arms folded and a smirk on his face. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked.

"About ten minutes," Spader replied. "And I wasn't even quiet about it. You've just had your eyes on him the whole time."

Bobby blushed. "Was not!" he complained.

"Was too. Ten minutes at least and you had this dreamy expression on your face the whole time. I'm just surprised _he_ never noticed it."

Now Bobby was horrified. "Oh god, a customer? That's like, so unprofessional. I seriously hope he didn't notice."

Spader laughed. "Yeah, you've got it bad, and you don't even know the guy."

"Well, at least he probably won't be coming back," Bobby said, reassuring himself with that fact. "He's probably some big-shot who just stopped by for a bite to eat on his way to the big city. Who knows."

* * *

 But he was wrong. Not three days later, the man named Saint Dane was back. Bobby was just scooping some ice cream into a cone for a small, easily-excitable child when the bell above the door jingled. He looked up, standard greeting on his lips, when he was met with those same ice-blue eyes.

"Um, hi," he managed. "Hello. Welcome to Solara Scoops. May I take your order?"

"You are about to drop that."

Bobby caught the ice cream in time, where it had been sliding out of the scoop in his hand. He dropped it in the cone, laughing awkwardly. "One moment, sir."

After serving the table with the ice cream kid, he returned to the counter, where Saint Dane was typing something out on his phone. He slid it into his pocket as Bobby neared.

"Strawberry shortcake, please. And a cup of Darjeeling." The order was out of the man's mouth before Bobby could blink. Saint Dane went to the table at the window - the same one he'd sat in the other day - and sat. This time he didn't have his tablet, so he watched out the window as he waited.

Bobby got the man's order and set it at his table. "Would you like anything else?" he asked politely.

This time, the "No, thank you" was said with a small smile. It dropped off Saint Dane's face right after, but it was a start. Bobby left, feeling something glowing in his chest as he went to serve another customer.

* * *

After that, it seemed to become a reoccurring thing. Every few days, Saint Dane would stop by and order the same thing: a slice of strawberry shortcake, and a cup of varying kinds of tea. He almost never spoke to Bobby, apart from the usual polite greetings and thanks as Bobby served him. Sometimes he would stay for a while and take his time sipping his tea, watching out the window as he did so, lost in thought. Sometimes he would be in and back out the door in a matter of minutes, in a hurry for something or another.

Bobby never commented on his choice of dessert, though the thought to do so came up often. In fact, he got close to doing so on multiple occasions. But the question would form, and the man would look up at him with those piercing blue eyes, effectively killing Bobby’s vocal chords. He would be forced to retreat to behind the counter for fear of embarrassing himself.

Why did he keep getting so tongue tied? It was just another customer, albeit a regular one. They had regulars all the time here, and Bobby had no trouble talking to _them_. Was it the fact that Saint Dane still looked out of place amongst the childish ice cream themes and bright colors?

Was it the fact that he was… attractive? Bobby hadn’t really looked at older men that way before. Granted, with how perfectly silver Saint Dane’s hair was, it was probably dyed. There was no way to tell his real age. Bobby was in his early twenties; he was of age, but it still felt weird that he was - what, crushing on someone? - that was possibly old enough to father him.

Okay, now that things were getting into stranger territories, he decided it was probably time to pay attention to his job.

_I can do this. I can talk to him. It’s just a simple question asking about what he does for a living. It’s not like I’m gonna get down on one knee and ask for his hand, right?_

“You look like you’re about to propose to someone, you’re so nervous.”

“ _Jesus,_ Spader!” Bobby shrieked, heart jumping into his throat. “Don’t _do_ that!”

Spader laughed. “I’m just being myself, mate. You’re the exposed wire.”

“Fuck off.”

Spader laughed again and went to sit at the bar.

“What are you doing?” Bobby asked.

“Sitting back to watch the show,” he replied, smirking. “You’re gonna talk to him, aren’t ya?”

Bobby groaned. Was he really _that_ transparent? “Yeah, sure, I am. You caught me,” he said. “Don’t say a thing, and don’t laugh if I fuck up.”

“Gotcha.”

Bobby picked up the plate of strawberry shortcake and started towards Saint Dane’s table, then stopped. “Bail me out if I start to fuck it up too badly?”

Spader shrugged. “If it stops being funny and starts being pitiful, sure.”

Bobby glared, but sighed and turned back. That’s as good as he’d get.

The distance to the table seemed to loom in front of him, miles of floorspace to trip or stumble or fall on. He tried not to seem to eager, but still managed to cover the space in record time, and without tripping- a fact he was rather proud of. He carefully sat the plate down in front of Saint Dane. The man clicked off his iPad, where he’d been typing something out, and picked up his fork.

“Thank you.”

That was Bobby’s usual dismissal. He fought the urge to retreat and stayed put. When Saint Dane looked up at him, brow raised and clearly asking for an explanation for his continued presence, Bobby opened his mouth to speak.

And found words had escaped him. Again. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and managed to squeak out “H-Hi.”

The man’s expression remained unchanged, unimpressed. Bobby tried again.

“Hello. I, uh, was wondering if I could ask you something…?”

“You just did.”

Okay, clearly the man had some sort of sense of humor. _Dry._ “I mean, something else. I-uh, I was wondering, wheredoyouwork?” The last part came out rushed, and Bobby almost smacked himself. _Nice way to screw up your first real conversation with the guy, Pendragon._

It seemed to amuse Saint Dane, who gave a small, condescending smile, and replied “I work with the company Ravinia Enterprises. No, I’m not wearing a uniform, in case you were wondering.”

Bobby was about to ask about his all-black suit, but was cut off with the answer before he could get the words out. Man, this guy was good. “Oh, that’s cool,” he said instead. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with wearing all black, I was just curious. Because, you know, with how you dress and how you act, it’s just kinda weird that you always come here and order strawberry shortcake.” He laughed awkwardly, face heating up as Saint Dane’s eyebrow raised higher. “I-I mean, there’s nothing wrong with liking strawberry shortcake! It’s a really delicious treat, a-and it seems to be your favorite, so, uh, g-good for you!” Smacking of face was imminent. _Spader please hurry up and SAVE ME._

But now Saint Dane was chuckling. _Chuckling_. Like some cheesy Bond villain. Except way more attractive. “Are you quite alright?” he asked.

Bobby gave in and slumped in the chair across from the man, banging his head on the table. “No,” he murmured. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry.”

Saint Dane chuckled again. “How about we start over?” He held out his hand. “Hello. My name is Saint Dane. And you are?”

Bobby blushed and averted his gaze, but took the man’s hand anyways. “I’m Bobby. Bobby Pendragon.”

Saint Dane’s hand was cold. Or maybe that was just the flush on Bobby’s cheeks heating the rest of his body. The man’s grip was firm, though as Bobby went to pull away, he felt his hand being drawn closer.

Saint Dane raised Bobby’s fingers to his lips. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said, cold lips ghosting across the back of his knuckles. Bobby’s face was probably glowing at this point, with how red it was, but Saint Dane gave no indication he noticed. Instead he flashed a dazzling smile.

At that moment, looking into the man’s intense, brilliant blue eyes, Spader’s words from some weeks ago echoed in Bobby’s mind, and he knew now more than ever that they were true.

He had it _bad_.


	3. Of Christmas Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no explanation

_Crash!_

Saint Dane jumped slightly and looked up, his peaceful reading interrupted. The noise had come from outside his window, but when he looked, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Snow fell lightly, covering the cars in the apartment parking lot in a light powder of white. A car horn started honking in the distance, but stopped after a brief moment.

He shrugged and sat back in his armchair, returning to his book.

A few minutes later, rapid tapping on his window drew Dane’s attention again. He looked outside, but there was still nothing happening. He kept watch a moment longer just to make sure, but the only difference was that the wind had started blowing. The bare branches of a tree just outside his window swayed. That was probably what had caused the tapping sound. Mildly irritated, Saint Dane turned back to his book.

Not a moment later, the tapping returned. Dane huffed and forcefully closed his book, raising to his feet and fully intending on going into another room to read. Movement caught his eye, and he stopped.

A hand was waving from the top of his window. A hand. Reaching down.

A hand.

Confused, Saint Dane opened his front door and went outside. A blast of cold air rushed into the heated apartment, bringing with it a flurry of snow. He brushed it off his shoulder and looked up, trying to find out why on Earth there was a hand in his window.

“Oh thank God, I thought you were in another room or something.”

Saint Dane blinked, mind struggling to process the image in front of him. His upstairs neighbor was stuck in a tree. Christmas lights were tangled around his legs, preventing him from getting good enough footing to get down. Instead, he hung precariously in the branches, limbs of both tree and person struggling to hold his weight.

Dane didn’t really know his upstairs neighbor that well. He himself had moved to the area a few months ago, looking for some peace and quiet outside the big city. The apartment seemed like a good deal. His neighbors had tried to welcome him, offering pastries and casseroles. But Saint Dane had simply turned them away at the door, sometimes refusing to even answer. He despised human interaction, and was content to keep it at a minimum. After all, that _was_ why he chose to work at home.

This particular neighbor had never introduced himself- not that Dane was complaining, but he did find it rather odd. The man kept to himself as well, not much noise coming from upstairs. When Dane had chosen an apartment, one thing he certainly expected was bumping and stomping from upstairs. Either the man was an extremely soft walker or was rarely home. Bottom line, Saint Dane had never met him, only really seeing him when one or the other went out for groceries and the like.

But back to the present.

Which included said reclusive neighbor currently hanging from a tree.

“How on Earth…?” Dane wondered.

The man laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, funny story,” he said. “So you know how Christmas is right around the corner?”

Dane nodded slowly. It was hard not too when every store and TV channel was broadcasting the fact to the heavens near 24/7.

“Well, this is the first time I’m spending it on my own, away from family and stuff. And I decided ‘Hey! You’re an adult now, Bobby! You should get a headstart on Christmas decorations!’” His hand slipped a little, so he wrapped his arms more firmly around a branch to keep himself steady. “The thing is, my dad was always the one to hang lights? I usually sat back and gorged myself on gingerbread cookies while he did the work.” His fingers slipped again, arms straining to hold onto the tree and not fall. “Also I may not have thought through the whole ‘living on the second floor’ business all the way and thought that climbing on my balcony was a good way to go and please oh my god can you help me down before I-”

The branch Bobby was hanging from finally gave out at about the same time his arms did, but Saint Dane was ready. He leapt forward, arms outstretched to catch the falling man. Bobby shrieked as he fell.

Dane apparently wildly overestimated his strength, because as soon as he caught Bobby, they both went down hard. Bobby flailed to grab onto something, accidentally smacking Dane in the face. His knees gave out under him and he collapsed, sending them both sprawling in the snow.

A beat, then ”Thanks for breaking my fall.”

Saint Dane groaned and pushed, rolling the other man off of him. He stood up and tried to brush the melting snow off his suit, but gave up. He would have to change. Hopefully his clothes weren’t ruined. He glared down at Bobby, who was still lying on the ground, smiling sheepishly up at him.

“There,” Dane said. “You are down.”

He turned to leave, but Bobby grabbed his ankle to stop him. “Wait!”

Dane rolled his eyes. “What do you want, boy?” he snapped.

Bobby glared, trying to sit up. “Okay, for one, I’m twenty three. I’m not a boy. Two…” He trailed off, blush staining his cheeks. Or maybe that was the cold. “I, uh, might have locked myself out of my apartment.”

“And that is my problem how?”

“...”

Dane nodded, then went to his door. He groaned audibly and rolled his eyes when Bobby called out again.  

“I think I might have also sprained my ankle!” Bobby was still sitting in the snow, freezing slush seeping into his clothes. He definitely wasn’t dressed for weather such as this, evident by his violent shivers and how his lips were slowly taking on a purple hue. He smiled up innocently at Saint Dane as the man walked back over.

“What exactly do you expect me to do, take you home with me and wrap you up like a burrito, spoon feeding you hot chocolate in front of a roaring fire?” he asked sarcastically.

“That actually doesn’t sound half bad.”

Dane closed his eyes. What in the world was this boy doing? He rubbed his forehead and sighed, then pulled out his phone. “I am going to call the front office, and you are going to get another key,” he said. “I will take you in for a few minutes, but only because you are injured and it is freezing out here. Then you are going home and we are never going to speak again.”

Bobby nodded as Dane dialed the number. “Never say I’m not a generous man,” he added under his breath.

A quick call later found Saint Dane struggling to help Bobby to his feet while simultaneously not get any more snow on his suit. Sunday night on a night like this left exactly one person up at the front office. They promised they’d be there soon with a spare key, but knowing Saint Dane’s luck, they wouldn’t be able to find one or would get lost along the way or _something_ , and Bobby would be stuck with him for the night. Joy.

They trudged into Saint Dane’s apartment, tracking snow along the front carpet. Bobby was leaning heavily against the taller man’s side, trying to keep weight off his injured ankle. They maneuvered him into the living room, Dane kicking the front door closed behind him and toeing his shoes off in one smooth movement.

With a graceless grunt, Dane dumped Bobby on the couch.

“Hey!” he complained. “Be nice to an injured man, will ya?”

“No.”

Bobby huffed at the deadpan answer and sat up. He shifted around until he was comfortable, then glared at his boots. He looked back at Saint Dane, who was watching silently with his arms crossed.

“Don’t you dare-”

Bobby grinned. “Can you help me get my shoes off?”

Dane groaned again and massaged his temple. The boy was really starting to get on his nerves. He was already wishing he’d just left Bobby out in the snow.

Dane kneeled in front of his neighbor and yanked one boot off, then the other. Bobby yelped, jerking back when the right shoe came off. He sent a poisonous glare at the man, but it was ignored.

Saint Dane left the shoes by the door and went to his room to change into something drier. By the time he got back, Bobby was already reclining on his couch and flipping through the channels on his TV. He looked right at home, his feet propped up on the arm of the couch, careful not to put any pressure on his injured one.

He looked up when Saint Dane entered and beamed. “So you mentioned something about hot chocolate and roaring fires?”

“My apologies, but we’re fresh out of roaring fireplaces,” Saint Dane said, sighing and heading to the kitchen. “But if you insist, I do have some chocolate.” It was leftover from the last time Nevva and her mother visited. He and her were more business partners than friends, but dear Elli Winter made sure to dote on anyone her daughter considered a ‘friend’, even if she didn’t approve of him one hundred percent. He didn’t understand the woman and didn’t hide the fact that he didn’t plan on trying.

Dane dug through the cupboards until he found the old-fashioned tin of powdered chocolate and set it down as he started a pot of water boiling. He hummed while he worked, something he’d heard on the radio the other day, snatches of lyrics and chords passing through his mind and his lips.

A few minutes later he swept back into the living room, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. He passed one to Bobby, who perked up and gave him a toothy grin. Their fingers brushed as the cup changed hands, too deliberate to be an accident. Dane eyed the boy, but Bobby gave no indication of having recognized the action.

“So they say there’s gonna be a snowstorm tonight,” Bobby said idly.

Saint Dane looked at the TV, where a weather emergency forecast was on. “It seems so.” A rather large patch of indigo was passing along the top edge of their state on the map, steadily creeping its way downwards. The weatherman was saying how it should hit their town in a few hours, and to make sure all pets and children are inside.

 _“All schools in the area will be closed for the next day at least,”_ he said jovially. “ _Make sure to stock up on bread and milk, just in case!”_

Putting his head in his hands, Dane tried to calm himself. Just what he needed- the possibility of having to spend a day--at _least!_ \--snowed in with his annoying upstairs neighbor who he’d just met. _Joy._

The emergency weather forecast ended and reruns of _Tom and Jerry_ continued where they’d left off. Bobby clapped, far too excited for the return of a cartoon than any man in his early twenties should be. He caught Dane staring and winked over his cup, the overall effect being ruined when he took a sip of his hot chocolate and yelped at the temperature, nearly spilling it on himself.

Saint Dane just hoped he didn’t end up strangling the boy before the night’s end.


	4. Of Arrangements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk about this one, I might write a follow-up to it? I have some more ideas for this little verse and it doesn't really feel completed but I'm sick of looking at it, so whatever. Expect anything.

“I still don’t see why I have to do this.” 

Press sighed and set down the comb he’d been futilely trying to run through his nephew’s hair. “For the fifth time, Bobby, it’s a marriage of convenience. They happen all the time, to join two kingdoms and bring peace and whatnot. It isn’t the end of the world.”

“Yeah,” Bobby groused, “I just don’t see why the guy I’m marrying has to be so  _ old _ . Doesn’t he have, like, a daughter or son closer to my age that I could marry instead? He looks like he could be my father, for crying out loud!” 

“I wish, but fate doesn’t work like that.” Press stood and pulled on Bobby’s elbow, bringing him up and off the stool as well. He smoothed the folds of his nephew’s coat, patting down his brown locks and grunting in frustration. Brushing his hair hadn’t changed a thing; it was still as messy as when they’d started. 

“Well, you’re as presentable as you’re gonna get,” he announced. 

Bobby looked up hopefully. “We’re done?” 

Press smiled fondly. “Yes, you can go get Mark and Courtney. They should be finished with their lessons with Osa soon enough, and you can all wait in the library until it’s time to leave. Just don’t mess up your outfit!” 

Bobby was already out the door, coattails flashing, the echo of his uncle’s final order following him. 

* * *

“Ew, he’s so  _ old!” _

“Are you sure that’s the right guy?”

Bobby laughed uncomfortably. “Yep, that’s him. Uncle Press says he’s actually younger than he looks, but with all that grey hair? I’m not so sure.” 

The trio of friends were crammed into a comfy loveseat in the back corner of the royal library, their usual afternoon hangout spot when no one had lessons to go to. Bobby sat in the middle, Mark and Courtney on either side of him. They were leaning into him, craning their necks over his shoulders to see the crumpled picture he held. 

“It could be the artist’s interpretation making him look older,” Courtney commented. “They did the same thing to my mom, but the other way. It’s not unheard of.” 

“Nah,” Bobby dismissed. “My uncle says that this man only lets the best and most accurate artists paint his portraits. This is the spitting image.” 

“Sounds like a bit of a snob, if you ask me,” Mark quipped. “What even is his name?” 

“Saint Dane, I think,” Bobby replied. “And get this: it’s not a title. That’s his actual name.” 

“So, a pretentious snob.” 

They started laughing, giggles echoing through the vast library. The librarian peeked his head around a shelf and shushed them. Bobby elbowed his friends to get them to shut up. Courtney playfully elbowed him back, accidentally pushing him into Mark, who shoved him back. An all-out elbow war threatened to start, but the librarian was still glaring at them and Bobby  _ really _ didn’t want to get kicked out so he stopped. They calmed down, going back to examining the picture of Bobby’s husband-to-be. 

“So have you actually met the guy yet, or are you gonna go into this completely blind?” Courtney asked. 

“As a matter of fact, we’re meeting up today,” Bobby responded. “Uncle Press and I are visiting later this evening and having dinner with him, so they can talk over some of the legal stuff and I can get to know the guy I’m gonna marry. That’s why I’m all dressed up.” 

“With the amount of effort your uncle put into actually getting you to look nice for once, Saint Dane better be impressed,” Mark said, jabbing his friend’s side playfully. 

Bobby mock-glared at his best friend but let the comment slide. “I just hope he’s not a dick. If I’m gonna be spending the rest of my life bound to him, I hope he’s likeable. Otherwise we’re gonna be fighting all the time, and I don’t want that.” 

Commotion from the entrance to the library interrupted them. “Master Pendragon?” a scrawny servant called. “Your uncle requests your presence. He said you would be in here. Master Pendragon?” 

While the librarian admonished the servant for shouting in his peaceful library, the trio stood up and stretched. 

“Well, I guess this is it,” Bobby said, hugging Mark and Courtney. “Time to meet my future husband.” 

“Good luck!” Courtney called after him as he headed to the well-chastised servant. They waved goodbye. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna need it,” Bobby muttered to himself. 

* * *

The man standing in front of him was so tall, so completely well put-together, so fucking  _ imposing _ , Bobby had trouble not fidgeting in place as he was silently appraised. Saint Dane stood so deathly still Bobby would have thought he was a statue, were it not for the slow flick of his eyes as he looked over Bobby. His icy blue eyes seemed to start him down, opening up his soul and peeling it away, layer by layer, until he could read every inch of Bobby’s past and future and everything he was. Bobby’s tongue seemed to turn to cotton in his mouth at the intensity. It was terrifying, not being able to speak in the face of that.

Finally, the king looked away, instead turning his eyes to Bobby’s uncle. “Is this the best you could do?” 

The distaste in his voice and how plainly he insulted Bobby snapped him out of his stunned silence. “Excuse me? I-” 

“You are a mere child,” Saint Dane smoothly interrupted, his expression unchanging. “I am not marrying a boy, no matter what it would do for our kingdoms.” 

A hand on his shoulder stopped Bobby before he could shoot back his retort and possibly ruin his relationship with the man before it even began. He looked up at his uncle, who shook his head.  _ Let me take care of things, _ his expression said. Bobby huffed and crossed his arms, looking away. 

“Excuse me, your majesty, but Robert actually turns twenty-three next month,” Press said, an amiable smile on his face. “He may look young. He is anything but.” 

Saint Dane sniffed, looking down his nose at them. “I see no reason to follow through. Not only would his young appearance possibly tarnish my reputation and paint me as a pedophile, but his attitude and apparent extreme dislike of me would make the arrangement living hell for the both of us.” 

Press waved his hands. “I assure you, he is well-behaved. He may have an attitude, but given time to get to know you, I am sure he would warm up to you.” 

Bobby groaned internally. They were talking about him as if he wasn’t there, and it was starting to get on his nerves. While they argued about whether or not he would be a good husband, he decided to wander a bit around the room they were in. So long as he didn’t leave the room or mess with anything, they shouldn’t get angry. 

They had met up in the foyer of the castle and just walked into the main corridor when the stare-down started. It was lavishly decorated, with rich red drapes and golden trimming on everything. Banners with stars hung from the stairwells and bannisters, going up several floors even in just that first room. Bobby could see dozens of doors and hallways leading to who-knows-where, with servants and messengers bustling to and fro delivering things and cleaning. 

He hadn’t gone more than a handful of steps before the door at the end of the grand hall opened, admitting a young woman about Bobby’s age. She had short brown hair, cut around her chin in a fashion popular nowadays, and wore a silver dress that flowed around her ankles. She sauntered over, eyes passing over Saint Dane and Press and landing on Bobby. She seemed to be familiar with them, as her gaze didn’t falter until she saw him. She looked surprised a moment, then walked over to him. 

“Greetings,” she said, offering her hand. “My name is Nevva Winter.” 

“Bobby. Bobby Pendragon.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it, looking back up curiously. “Who  _ are _ you?” 

Nevva laughed at his expression. “I am King Dane’s ward, taken in after my mother disowned me. And you are?” 

“Uhh, Press’s nephew. King Tilton, I mean.” Bobby released her hand, realizing belatedly he’d been holding it too long and blushing. “I’m the heir to the throne of Solara.” 

“His… nephew?” Nevva looked confused. “Wouldn’t his son be the heir?” 

“He never married.” 

“Oh.” 

They lapsed into silence, slightly awkward as they looked anywhere but each other. The conversation going on between his uncle and his soon-to-be-spouse came to an end. They walked over to the couple, Press landing a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. 

“I see you’ve met the young Lady Winter,” he said, seeming in a much better mood than he had a few minutes ago. 

“Yeah,” Bobby mumbled. “Hey, Uncle Press? I got a question.” 

“Shoot.” 

“Why can’t I just marry Nevva?” 

They went silent. Bobby thought he’d asked something stupid, but was saved the embarrassment by Nevva laughing. He looked around, confused, as she cracked up and had to excuse herself from the conversation for a moment to calm down. Saint Dane rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, gesturing for Press to answer. Press sighed. 

“Bobby, there are two things wrong with that,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “For one, that’s not how it works. A king’s ward isn’t their child, just some kid they took in when their parents wouldn’t. They’re not related, so unless King Dane decided to adopt her, she’s not in line for the throne. Admittedly, that  _ would _ make things easier, but  _ certain _ people are stubborn and decide to take the difficult route with everything they do.” 

Saint Dane ignored the clear jab, instead examining his nails. 

“Secondly?” Press continued. “She’s already engaged.” 

Bobby almost choked. He glanced at Nevva, who burst out in giggles again. She flashed her left hand, where a delicate silver band rested on her ring finger. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, though he really should have. That was the hand she offered to him when they met. 

“Well I feel stupid,” Bobby announced, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to force the fierce blush away. 

“You should,” Saint Dane commented. 

Nevva elbowed him. “I feel flattered,” she said, taking Bobby’s hand and smiling. “I agree though, Dane sure does love to make things more complicated than they need be.” 

Bobby grinned at the affronted look the king gave his ward. She smirked briefly and flashed him an innocent smile, to which he waved off and huffed. 

“So we decided to go ahead with the plan as originally stated,” Saint Dane said, ignoring the giggling woman next to him. “Pendragon and I are to be wed in three weeks time, signing the official truce between Ravinia as Solara. He will be staying here until then so he can learn how we run things around here, and so that we may get to know each other. After the marriage, all his belongings will be transported to the castle and he will officially be moved in.” He smoothed his hands over his robes and nodded towards the grand door at the end of the hall, gesturing for them to follow him. 

“But now, I must insist that you join me for dinner. I had the cooks prepare a banquet for the arrival of the King and his heir, my future husband. ”

“Welcome to Ravinia.” 


	5. Of Substitute Teachers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got a oneshot prompt that got out of hand. teacher/single parent au

Five minutes after the final bell rang, Nevva Winter was still sitting at her desk.  

She was rummaging around in her bag, looking for something. Bobby busied himself sorting papers, organizing the desk, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She pulled out a book and settled in, unconcerned with the fact that the school day had ended almost ten minutes ago. 

Bobby looked around the empty classroom, confused. Had he missed a class period? Was there still one left to go, that she happened to be a part of? Having a student for two classes in a row wasn't uncommon. 

The next bell failed to ring. So it _was_ the end of the day. So why was Nevva still here? 

Nevva looked up from her book and met Bobby's startled eyes. "Why are you staring at me?" 

Bobby flushed at being caught. "I'm, uh, just curious as to why you're still here," he admitted. 

Nevva smirked, going back to her book. "I see you're rather new for a substitute. My guardian always picks me up directly- he doesn't trust the bus system." 

"Ah." Bobby looked back to the papers he was supposed to be organizing for the regular teacher. Was he really that transparently new at this whole thing? "Wait, how was I supposed to know that?" 

Nevva turned a page, not looking up. "If you knew my guardian at all, you would know. You are new not only to substituting this class, but at this school. Probably new to substitute teaching in general, if your flustered nature speaks the truth. Besides, everyone at this school knows of my guardian. It's hard not to, when he's unofficially co-principal of the place." 

"Co-principal...?" 

"Unofficial, of course. Dr. Tilton wouldn't admit he listens to me every once in awhile even if you paid him," came a voice from the doorway. "And trust me, I have." 

Bobby spun in his seat and gaped. The man standing in the doorway to the high school classroom looked so out of place, it was almost funny. He stood tall, the top of his head barely brushing the doorframe. Long black hair tumbled down his shoulders, over a crisp three-piece suit. His eyes flitted between the two of them, settling on Bobby like two freezing ice chips. Bobby forgot how to breathe. 

"Nevva, dear, are you ready to leave?" the man asked, folding his hands behind his back. 

Nevva was already standing, her bag slung over her shoulder. "Yes, sir. Ready when you are." 

He gestured she follow him, waving her through the doorway ahead of him. He nodded at Bobby and turned to leave. 

"Wait!" Bobby scrambled to stand, knocking some of the papers off the desk in the process. They fluttered to the ground and he almost slipped on them as he rushed to the doorway. The man had stopped at Bobby's shout, and was now watching with thinly veiled amusement. He quirked an eyebrow as Bobby flushed. 

"I was just, uh, I was w-wondering," Bobby gulped, a nervous wreck in front of this calm and collected man. "I was wondering... what your name was." 

The man was silent, appraising him. He swept his eyes up and down Bobby's body, meeting his eyes again. He smirked. "Saint Dane. And you are?" 

"Robert Pendragon. B-Bobby, I mean. Bobby Pendragon." He almost smacked himself, but Dane laughed. 

"Bobby it is. Lovely to meet you, Bobby Pendragon." 

Hearing his name in that deep tone sent shivers down his spine, and Bobby fought down his blush. He twisted his hands in front of him, forcing himself to meet those ice blue eyes and not back down. His breath caught, what he was going to say forgotten as the man smiled lazily at him. 

"Dane, stop flirting with the substitute," came Nevva's voice from the hallway. "We're going to be late for that meeting with the archaeology department at the museum." 

"Coming, dear," Dane called back, not moving his gaze. He took a step towards Bobby, who instinctively stepped back. His back hit the desk. He had to look down to steady his footing on the slippery papers he'd dropped earlier. Cold fingers on his chin had his head shooting back up. 

Dane was right in front of him, mint-scented breath washing over his face. This close, Bobby could see all the different flecks of color in his eyes, like fractured glaciers. They flicked over his face, and Bobby realized with a start he'd completely missed Dane's question. 

"S-Sorry, what was that?" he asked. 

Dane's smirk grew fractionally. "I said, I am going to a meeting right now, but I will be free after and frankly, rather hungry. Did you want to meet up for dinner around eight? Nevva will be with her tutor for the evening, and I am sure her and Miss Killian can entertain themselves late into the night if we were to... return late." 

The blush was back in full force, and Bobby didn't even try to hide it. He sputtered, making the man in front of him laugh. 

"I meant for a movie," he said, pulling back a fraction. His fingers had yet to move from where they had tilted Bobby's head up. Bobby snapped his mouth shut, sheepish and embarrassed. 

"Though, I would not be averse..." 

His heart-rate quickened as Dane leaned in, hooded eyes watching him carefully. Bobby felt his eyes slipping shut, cold breath ghosting over his lips. 

"Dane!" 

Bobby tried to jump back, but only succeeded in slamming his back against the desk again. He yelped, turning to the door. 

"Nevva, I said I'll be there in a minute," Dane sighed, eyes closed. 

Nevva leaned against the doorway. "We're going to be late as it is. You can seduce the substitute after. Besides, the janitors wouldn't be happy with you if you bed the poor man here." 

Bobby choked as Dane snickered. "You know I wouldn't do that on a first date." 

"Press would beg to differ." 

"That was ten years ago." 

_I want to die._

As if he could read Bobby's thoughts, Dane turned back to him. "We'll finish this later. As much as I'm having fun, Nevva does have a point. We're late." He pulled a pen out of his pocket and gestured for Bobby to give him his hand. When Bobby hesitated, still sort of in shock over the whole thing, Dane rolled his eyes and grabbed his hand. His cold fingers left tingles where they touched, the sharp press of the pen almost unnoticed. 

He finished writing and clicked his pen shut, slipping it back in his pocket. But instead of dropping Bobby's hand, Dane lifted it to his lips. "It was lovely meeting you, Bobby. I look forward to dinner tonight." 

He stepped back, settling his hand on Nevva's shoulder and guiding her out the door. He threw a wink over his shoulder as they left, then they were gone. 

The silence of the empty classroom was oppressive, broken only by their fading footsteps down the hall. Bobby gulped, his heart finally slowing down enough and clearing his head. He looked down at his hand, where a name, number, and restaurant location were written in beautifully elegant blue ink. His hand prickled from where the cold lips pressed against it. He thought of how close those lips had been to his own, and shivered. 

Bobby collapsed in his desk chair and groaned. 

_I wonder if there are any permanent positions here?_


	6. Of Hackers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got another one of them otp prompts and figured hey why not write out the basis for an entire au that could honestly turn into a huge fuckin story if i ever decided to continue it eh
> 
> so uh
> 
> yeah
> 
> 'meeting online au' gone a slightly different route than originally intended

When Bobby opened his YouTube feed to find it inexplicably filled with videos of ravens, he knew he was in for an interesting day.

He didn't have anything against ravens or birds in general. It's just, his feed was always filled with other Let's Players and guides to programming, with the occasional Epic Meal Time video. He's never, as far as he could remember, searched for videos about birds, but that's all that his feed contained at that moment.

He clicked through to his profile, but nothing there was changed. No new videos that he hadn't uploaded. His followers and who he was following seemed to be the same. The only thing different from the last time he'd logged in was the six hundred bird videos he'd apparently watched in his sleep.

Bobby sighed and prepared to exit the window, leaving it as a mystery he wouldn't be able to solve. He changed his mind and went to his profile again, planning on rewatching something to pass the time. However, when he got there, he realized something had changed in the minute or so he'd been in a different window.

His profile description had changed.

Now, instead of his welcoming new watchers and warnings about the horror games he frequented, there was a string of gibberish. It looked like someone had smashed at the keyboard a few times. He squinted at it, noticing a few repeating patterns, then sat back. It was encoded.

He pulled up a website that offered deciphering software and typed in the code, switching it between a few. Not Caesarian shift, not Atbash. Maybe Vigenére? He didn't know the key, though, so that one was out.

He switched back to his profile after trying out a couple keys, giving up. He started when he noticed the description had changed again. Now, above the string of letters, was a word: raven.

"Is that...?"

Bobby input the key and tried deciphering it again, and words were revealed.

_'youtube dot com slash nine four capital d lowercase u v capital x six four'_

Bobby rubbed his forehead. What was he getting himself into? He debated going to the url; it could be a virus, or a screamer. He'd be able to handle that last one, but if he got another virus on his computer and had to get Mark to help him delete it his friend was gonna kill him.

With a sigh, he typed in the address. Clicking enter, he braced himself for the worst.

A video loaded, the buffer bar spinning. Bobby released his breath. So it wasn't a virus. But he still didn't know what was going to happen.

The video finished loading, and the image of a man appeared onscreen. He was tall, with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. He sat, legs crossed, in an ornate, plush armchair. His crisp black suit looked perfectly ironed, and his expression was one of amusement. He spoke, and his deep baritone made a shiver crawl down Bobby's spine.

"Greetings. You don't know me, and I would like to keep it that way for now. You can call me Saint Dane."

Bobby snorted involuntarily. _Nice nickname, douche._

_"_ I work with a top-secret company," the man continued, "that some might consider a sort of modern Illuminati. We strive to create a new world order, one government file at a time. We have some of the world's topmost hackers at our disposal, and agents hidden around in everyday life. You never see us coming, though we mean you no harm.

"Now, you may be wondering why I have contacted specifically you, and why I felt the need to mess with your account." Dane's facade slipped a little, a flash of awkwardness peeking through before the crack was sealed, and he was back to his smug superiority. "Truth be told, I could not answer that question myself. I saw you, in your videos, while browsing earlier. I was captivated by your passion, though it be for silly games like _Five Nights at Freddy's_."

Bobby huffed. "What's wrong with _Five Nights at Freddy's?_ "

The man continued. "However, I noticed you, your potential in programming, when I saw your _Journal_ project. I must say, developing an entire program to keep track of your thoughts and have it respond to them, is quite a feat. That level of AI programming is what we need here in Ravinia, where I work."

Bobby blanched. This man had found his notes on _Journal?_ He thought he'd encrypted the files to the notes on his computer well enough. How had he gotten through to his personal computer, anyway? Through his YouTube account? _How?_

Dane's eyes brightened, and he leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together. "Robert Pendragon. You are a brilliant mind, just waiting to reach your full potential. Why waste it showing others how to play games? Join me, join Ravinia, and you can reach new heights with your programming. We can change the world, _together._

_"_ I hope to see you soon," Dane concluded, leaning back in his chair. "If you agree to my proposition, leave a note of it somewhere in your computer. I will find it, and be in contact with you soon. Trust me." He swept a loose strand of black hair behind his ear, smirking at the screen. "Goodbye, Bobby."

He gestured at someone behind the camera, and the video ended.

Bobby stared at the screen for a long time, processing what he'd learned in the past couple minutes. He wasn't even surprised when his screen went black, then came back on. The video was gone, YouTube showing only the standard message.

' _This video does not exist. :/ Sorry about that. Try something else.'_

He slowly leaned back in his chair, glancing at the clock. Barely any time had passed, yet Bobby felt his entire world had just shifted. He almost thought he'd imagined the past few minutes. There was no trace the video had ever existed. He clicked back through to his profile, and the encoded message in his bio was gone, replaced by what was originally there. Bobby stared at his pointer a long time, thinking.

He exited the window and pulled open a word document, putting it full screen.

' _Tell me more.'_


	7. Of Weddings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another prompt: two miserable people meeting at a wedding au. why not?
> 
> more notes at bottom

Dane sighed for the umpteenth time, running the tip of his finger along the edge of his wineglass. The edge of the glass produced a light ringing sound as his finger slipped along, though the sound was almost lost amidst the music playing. He stared at the violet liquid inside, and how it sparkled indigo in the blue lights of the room. He picked it up and took another sip, before setting it down and resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

He was _bored._

He stared up at the happy couple dancing in the middle of the floor. They were surrounded by other similar couples, but these two obviously stood out. It was _their_ wedding, after all.

Nevva was dressed in a low-cut silver gown, the fabric hugging her hips and flaring out at the bottom. It was sleeveless, though she had thrown a dark blue shrug over her shoulders to combat the cold from the air conditioning. A string of pearls adorned her neck, the white beads stark against her brown skin. Her hair was piled on top of her head, a complicated series of curls and pins that honestly Dane was sure defied the laws of physics. She was gorgeous.

Her bride was similarly dressed. Aja wore a navy dress, cinched at the waist with a silver belt. It was short in the front, and trailed down to the ground behind her feet. She wore silver heels that boosted her to Nevva's height, strapped up to mid-calf. Her blonde hair was in a simple bun, a silver brooch clipping her bangs out of the way.

She stared at her new wife, her eyes full of adoration. Nevva's eyes were closed, a slight smile on her face as she swayed to the music. Aja's eyes flicked across her face, memorizing her features as if this was the last time she would see her, but that was untrue. They now had a life to spend, together.

Dane watched them spin lazily amidst the other reception guests. He slumped lower in his chair as people glanced his way, wondering why the tall man with the long black ponytail was sitting alone, or why he was even here. He felt out of place amid all the happy couples. He didn't even know why he was here, not truly. He and Nevva rarely spoke, their work schedules not aligning as well as they had in the past. The excited call at 2:00 AM to announce her engagement was completely unexpected, but as he had nothing better to do, Dane agreed to show up at the wedding.

Now he was regretting that decision. Nevva had barely looked at him all night, only a cursory introduction at the start of the reception before she swept off with her bride to mingle with other guests. Aja spared him a pitying look, which angered Dane. He didn't want her pity. He debated just leaving, but that would be a sign of weakness. No one would ever call Saint Dane weak, so he stayed. Albeit, miserably.

Someone plopped down in the seat next to him and slung an arm over the back of his chair, startling him. Dane righted his glass before it tipped fully over, then turned to glare at the newcomer.

It was a man about average height, with tousled brown hair and an unbuttoned black jacket over a light blue shirt. His brown eyes were glazed over, and Dane realized with a start that he was drunk.

"What- what are you doing?" Dane asked, inching away. "Who are you?"

The man smiled dopily, waving his hand in front of his face. He looked like he was trying to make a certain gesture, but the alcohol had made his movements sloppy.

"What?"

He made the movement again, then moved his hand down to his chest and made a pinching motion, dragging it down. He pulled his hand back up and did it again, then pat Dane's chest. Dane flinched back, confusion written on his features.

"What are you doing?" Dane asked again, but he had a sneaking suspicion.

The man pat his own face clumsily, open hand touching his lips then moving to his cheek. He leaned in, repeating the gesture. Dane leaned away.

"You're deaf, aren't you?"

The man was still trying to lean in, repeating the gesture Dane now recognized as the sign for 'kiss'. He pushed the man back gently, shaking his head. Dane tapped a finger to his ear and moved it to his mouth, then pointed at Bobby, raising his eyebrows.

_Are you deaf?_

The man blinked in surprise, then instantly brightened. He nodded excitedly, clenching his fist and waving it up and down. _Yes! Yes!_ He repeated the sign Dane had made, pointing to himself and grinning crazily. _Yes! I'm deaf! Yes! Yes!_

Dane smirked, shaking his head in amusement. The man probably didn't have many conversation partners, if how excited he got when he realized Dane knew ASL was any indication.

 _My name is S-A-I-N-T D-A-N-E,_ Dane signed, fingerspelling out his name. _What is yours?_

Bobby sat back, pulling his other arm off the back of Dane's chair so he could use both hands to sign. _B-O-B-B-Y P-E-N-D-R-A-G-O-N, my name is-_ He changed midsentence, making the sign for 'write' on top of a 'B'. His name sign, apparently.

 _Nice to meet you,_ signed Dane, smiling.

Bobby giggled silently. _You too. Like you. Pretty. Nice. Know sign._

Dane stalled, realizing that's what Bobby had been signing earlier. His movements were still sloppy, having had far too much to drink, but his excitement at finding someone to sign with had obviously sobered him up a bit. He felt a little affronted to be called 'pretty' by a man he'd just met, but didn't blame him. He was drunk; drunk people tended to openly speak their mind.

 _Thank you,_ he signed back, smiling again.

Bobby grinned at Dane, his cheeks red from either the drink or the compliment he'd given. Dane watched him, feeling his face heat up as well.

A shout interrupted their staring contest, startling Dane. He turned towards the source of the sound, and was promptly hit in the face with something soft. It fell into his lap,and when he looked down, the angry shout on his lips fell flat. A bundle of white roses, tied with a light blue ribbon, lay innocently there.

He stared at it, then looked up and met Bobby's eyes. They were sparkling, all haziness from the alcohol gone. His hands were clenching and unclenching in his lap, the ASL version of opening and closing your mouth in stunned silence.

Laughter broke Dane out of his stupor. His head snapped to Nevva, who was watching the proceedings with a sunny smile. She caught her friend's eye and flashed him a thumbs up.

"Congratulations to the happy couple!" Aja laughed from beside her. "Good luck to you, Bobby, your gonna need it!" She signed as she spoke, movements fast and fluid. Bobby watched her hands and blushed, shoving his own hands in his pockets.

Dane gaped, the expression on his face apparently being enough to send Nevva and her wife into hysterics. He glanced back at the bouquet of roses in his lap, picking them up gently. The sickly sweet scent drifted up to him. He lifted them to his nose and breathed deeply, then opened his eyes and met Bobby's.

_Sure, why not?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay SO im a lazy piece of shit and i had this idea for drunk bobby flirting with dane but then i realized id have to write drunk dialogue which is NOT FUN so i took the lazy route and made bobby deaf and mute so there. sue me
> 
> all the signs he makes are real signs if u want a translation of what bobbys saying before dane catches on here- first, hes signing 'pretty/beautiful' (the waving in front of face), then 'like you' (the pinching moving down chest, point at dane), and finally 'kiss' (hand pat lips then cheek). when they started actually communicating together in italics of course the grammar is all implied- asl grammar is v different from english
> 
> so yeah. enjoy the thing. i have one more prompt kelly sent me so expect that in one to two weeks


	8. Of Wrong Numbers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont like this one as much bu i had an idea i did like and ran with it, halfway through i forgot where i was going and slapped down a shitty ending. fuck off im tired and everything smells like paint and i am s i c k of it

Dane was just sitting down on his bed with a book in his hand when his phone buzzed. He sighed, then dug around in his pocket to pull it out. A multimedia message flashed from an unknown number. It was a picture, though he couldn’t tell of what. The thumbnail was too small. He sighed again, rolling his eyes, and swiped to open the message.

A man’s face grinned cheekily at him, his shoulders and chest bare and a glass of red wine in his hand. Bubbles framed the picture, which seemed to be taken from above. He was obviously in the tub, though the picture was framed innocently enough.

 _‘releasing my inner child lol. dont tell courtney i stole her bubble bath <3’ _ the caption read. Dane raised an eyebrow, confused. He started to tap out a reply, when another message came in.

_‘OMFG WROGN NUMBET IGNOR ETHIS IM AORRY I MEANT TI SEND THIS TO A FRIEND IN SO SRRY PLEAE FORGET THIS EVER HAPPED’_

Dane chuckled despite himself. He raised the phone and snapped a picture of himself, looking amused, and replied. _‘Are you quite alright? Your grammar skills seem to have disappeared. Also yes, this is the wrong number.’_

He set his phone down and opened his book. It was a few minutes before he got another response.

_‘lmao oh myg od man sorry i sent this to u i meant tk send to anfriend bit typed it in wrong?? ur numbers v similar ti her. Also duck u my grammers fine’_

Dane shook his head. ‘ _It’s ‘grammar’, dear boy. My point stands.’_

Almost immediately he responded. ‘ _fcuk off’_

_‘Are you drunk?’_

_‘waht is it obviuos’_

_‘A bit, yes.’_

_‘oops’_

Dane chuckled again. ‘ _Try not to drown in your tub. Wine and full baths don’t mix well.’_

He set down his phone again, returning to his book. He didn’t get another response for a good few hours, in which he’d started to worry, but shrugged it off. He didn’t even know the man, it was just a wrong number call. He’d probably sobered up a bit and wondered why he was drunk-texting a complete stranger at ten at night.

Around midnight, Dane was just locking his apartment door for the night and about to turn in. His phone buzzed from his bedside table. As he stripped off his shirt, he snagged it and glanced at the screen. It was the same number from earlier, with yet another picture message. He stopped, sitting on his bed, and opened the message.

It was a picture of the full moon outside a window. There were a few stars peeking through the clouds, but most were shadowed by the light pollution. It was a beautiful picture, really, but the caption ruined the feeling and made Dane laugh.

_‘okay so i MIGHT have. passed out in the tub. uh. dont say anythign and look at this fuckin moon’_

He snorted, knowing that was going to happen. Leaning back, he kicked off his shoes and pointed the camera outside his bedroom window, where the full moon was visible as well. He took an upside-down picture of it, then sent it along with the caption. ‘ _Good job. You know, I can see the moon as well. I don’t need a picture to remember it exists.’_

_‘yeah btu sometimes its nice to have memories of pretty things. pics of pretty things r nice to look at whent he pretty thing isnt there anymore’_

Dane nodded, agreeing. He started to type out ‘ _I see your point’_ , but was interrupted by another message.

_‘like u. ur pretty. still have that pic of u lol’_

There was a long moment where Dane could swear he heard the man’s screaming from however far away he was, then his phone started blowing up.

‘ _SHIT SHT WIST I DIDNT MEAN TK SAU THAT’_

_‘IGKORE THAT OMFG IM SKRRY I DIDNT MEAN’_

_‘GOD DCKING DAMMOT I DIDNT MEAN TI SAY THAT THATS WIERD OMG IM AORRY’_

_‘FUCK’_

Dane was actively cackling now. The man’s typos were getting out of control with how frantic he was getting. It was cute, really, but the messages that kept coming in, with worse and worse grammar and more apologies had Dane laughing harder than he had in awhile. Without thinking, he raised the phone and took another picture of himself, face flushed from laughing with tears in his eyes. He sent it. ‘ _It’s fine, it’s fine. In fact, why don’t you have another picture of me?’_

He forgot, until the moment he hit ‘send’, that he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. His face flushed again, this time from embarrassment, when he saw the three little dots pop up and disappear a few times.

_‘um’_

Ten minutes passed and there was nothing else. Dane covered his face and groaned, deciding he needed to go to sleep before he made any more mistakes. Before he sent any more risqué photos to a complete stranger. He turned his phone off and set it aside, then threw himself onto the bed and closed his eyes. _Congratulations, self. You are officially a creep._

* * *

 The next morning, Dane had completely forgotten about the virtual encounter. He woke up as usual, brushed his teeth, threw on some comfortable clothes, and was just settling down with a bowl of cereal to watch the morning news. It was his day off, and he was determined to spend it doing absolutely nothing- a nice change from his usual fast-paced life.

He switched his phone back on and set it aside as it powered up, then got up again to use the bathroom. When he got back, the screen was lit up with a series of texts from the number from last night. He started, then snatched it up and opened them. They were from the night before, with one from about twenty minutes ago.

_‘i uh’_

_‘i dont knwo what to say??’_

_‘...’_

_‘w’_

_‘wow ??’_

_‘fuck it im too drunk for this’_

The one from this morning was another picture. It was a plate of runny eggs and toast, and a single pathetic looking piece of bacon. A half-empty glass of orange juice was half out of frame.

_‘love being hungover. yes. very much so. such a great feeling *sarcasm*’_

Dane smiled. He took a seat, propping his legs up on the coffee table and settling his cereal bowl in his lap. He snapped a picture of the setup, making sure the TV and his bowl were in the frame. _‘Breakfast of champions, that is. I see that and raise you my lazy morning.’_

The other man responded a few minutes later. _‘lmao that cereal looks hella better than burnt toast and salmonella. wish i was there’_

Almost immediately, another text popped up. _‘FUCK that sounded wierd i meant like. i wish i had better food? and no headache so i could watch tv. no news tho ew bo-ring’_

_‘The news is a perfectly valid thing to watch on a Saturday morning.’_

_‘ e w ‘_

Dane shook his head fondly and went back to his breakfast. A few minutes later, he had a thought.

_‘May I ask your name? We have been sending each other pictures of each other and talking for a while now and I figured it was odd I still didn’t know your name. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.’_

A minute passed, then two. Dane set his phone down, turning his attention elsewhere. He almost brushed off the lack of response as a refusal, when his phone buzzed.

_‘im bobby’_

Dane smiled. Bobby. _‘What a nice name. You can call me Dane.’_

_‘cool beans’_

Dane choked on his cereal. _‘Indeed. It was lovely talking to you, Bobby.’_

_‘you too’_


	9. Of Graffiti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this one didnt come from a prompt kelly sent me but i still liked it when i found it so. also i have one more she sent me but im procrastinating it bc i dont know what to do? its good gimme time ill get to it eventually
> 
> so yeah i had this idea right. i like it. i wrote it.
> 
> enjoy?

Dane hunched over, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders. His scarf whipped in the wind, getting in his face. He pushed it away, grumbling as some icy snow dripped down his front. His hands were shaking as his shoved them back in his pockets, the cold turning them blue under the thick fabric of his mittens. As soon as he got out of this blizzard and into his warm and cozy apartment, the better. He didn’t see why they had to keep him at the office as long as they did, but he wasn’t about to make a fuss.

The smell of spray paint hit him before the sound did. Above the howling of the wind, the tinny shaking of the can reached his ears. He scoffed. _Teenagers. Can’t resist the call of the illegal, even in this weather._

He rounded the corner and prepared to rip the young wrongdoer a new one, but stopped short when he saw the graffiti. It barely counted as such- a better word Dane might have used was mural.

A raven, mid-flight, burst from the brickwork in such a way it looked as if it were coming straight for him. It’s claws were outstretched, each feather glistening realistically in the lamplight. Behind it, a flaming star was emblazoned in golden paint.

The artist was putting the final touches on the beak when Dane arrived. They didn’t notice him, until they finished with a flourish and turned around. They dropped the can of spray paint in a duffel bag and stepped back to admire their work, accidentally bumping into Dane.

They jumped forward, spinning around. “What are you-”

Dane held up a hand to calm the stranger. “I am not here to report you. I was simply admiring your artwork,” he assured. “It is quite interesting, if I do say so.”

The person still looked suspicious, or as suspicious as one could look while wrapped up like a mummy in scarves. Their features were obscured, but brown eyes peeked out from under a beanie, full of wariness. “You sure? I don’t want no cops coming after me.”

“I am sure.” Dane smiled reassuringly, offering a mitten-clad hand. “My name is Saint Dane, though I usually just go by Dane. What is yours, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The strange artist snorted and took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Saint. Nice. My name’s Bobby, though I ain’t telling you my last one in case you change your mind and decide to turn me in.”

“Fair enough,” Dane conceded. He turned back to the mural, crossing his arms, admiring it. “So what made you choose such an interesting canvas? I’m sure paper costs less at the crafts store than a fine for vandalism of public property.”

Bobby shrugged, bending down to zip up his duffel bag. “Not big enough. I can start up an art show, sure. And galleries are good and all. But when it comes down to it, this city is too dull. Everyone’s lives are busy these days. No one can afford to take a minute to walk through a gallery, appreciate some art. They need to go places, do things. And I don’t blame ‘em.” He stood up, slinging his bag across his back. “So I make up for it by putting my stuff where they can see it. They don’t have to go somewhere special; they can see it on their way to work. Sit on the bus, look out the window, and you see this.”

He gestured at the mural as a car drove by, headlights lighting up the raven and making the golden paint sparkle. A gust of wind blew Bobby’s scarf down, revealing his smiling face. It was obvious in the way he looked at his art that he loved what he did, and Dane found himself grinning as well.

Bobby pulled his scarf tight again, covering his mouth and nose with it. His voice came out muffled. “You know, my art may be pretty, but it isn’t meaningless, at least not to me. I may sound crazy, but I swear I’ve seen this stuff in my dreams.”

Dane cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“You know how some people say they have dreams about the future, but they forget about ‘em ‘till whatever happens comes to pass? Like that, except none of the stuff I dream about could actually happen.

“For example, last week. I dreamt I was in a helicopter, of all things. There were these two guys and a girl with me, though I swear when the dream started two of them were different people. We were flying above a stadium, and on the ground, I see this symbol.” Bobby gestured again to the mural, pointing at the flaming star. “I think it was spinning, but that bit is fuzzy. Then I remember pushing one guy out of the copter, and there was a falling sensation, and suddenly I was waking up in a cold sweat. It was weird as hell, but pretty cool. I just can’t help but think it means something.”

He glanced back at Dane, then squinted. “Now that I think about it, you look like one of the guys from that dream.”

“The one you pushed out of the helicopter?” Dane asked, amused.

“Nah, the other guy. You were laughing maniacally, like some crazy mad scientist. I don’t remember why though. Huh.” Bobby shook his head.

“Anyways, all my dreams are like that. One thing that always comes back is a raven. Not just ravens in general- it’s always the same one. Don’t know how, but it is. He’s cool though, so I always put him in my art.”

They stood in silence a moment, letting the cold wind blow around them as they looked at the mural. Bobby shivered, catching Dane’s attention. Despite how wrapped up he was, the clothes seemed old and worn. The fur hood on the jacket Bobby wore was falling apart, thin strands whipping wildly in the wind. Dane felt bad for the young artist.

“So where will you go after this, Picasso?” he asked.

Bobby shrugged. “Dunno. Might go back to the shelter for the night, might go curl up behind Garden Poultry. Sometimes if I stay long enough the owner drops a couple boxes of fries out the back door for me. I can make those puppies last a couple days if I try hard enough.”

Bobby chuckled, but Dane was horrified. “Wait, you’re homeless?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Bobby curled into himself defensively, almost subconsciously. “What’s the matter with that?”

“Nothing, it’s just,” Dane fumbled, suddenly feeling awkward. “I just thought that, with how talented you are, you might be able to earn enough to rent an apartment instead of sleeping out in the cold like this.”

Bobby scoffed, insulted. “You think I haven’t tried? All these movies and games and pretty advertisements, and you’d think artists like me would be in high demand. But that’s not how the world works, buddy. No one wants to pay an artist, everyone’s always like ‘ _Make me this thing and it’ll get you exposure!’_ but start whining when I ask for money. Sorry, pal, I gotta eat! Art isn’t free! But that never works, they always get pissy when I don’t give shit away, so I stopped bothering. Who cares anyways, I’m gonna starve to death in some alley and they’ll find my body a week later, dead because I thought getting a degree in the fine arts would be a good idea. I should’a done law, done business, done something that would’a fed me instead of being a starving artist on the streets. Well _my fucking bad_.”

At the end of his rant, Bobby was breathing hard. Dane thought he saw tears slipping down his cheeks, but Bobby wiped them away before he could be sure.

“So yeah, no, I’m homeless. I’m a screw-up who doesn’t know how to do anything but deface public property. Turn me in to the cops if you want, hell, at least jail’ll give me a roof over my head for the night.”

He turned away, looking sullenly at the beautiful mural on the wall. Dane studied what he could see of Bobby’s face, seeing the stoic way he accepted his defeat. It was heartbreaking. He made a decision.

“You can come with me.”

Bobby stiffened. Silence, then, “Don’t pull my leg like that, old man.”

“I’m only mid-twenties, and I’m not pulling your leg.” Dane stepped forward, hesitating a moment before gently laying his hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “I have an apartment a couple blocks over. I’m never home, and it’s big enough for the two of us. You can stay there as long as you like. I can provide for us both as long as it’s needed.”

Bobby tried to pull away, avoiding Dane’s eyes, but the man’s grip was firm. “Come with me, Bobby. Please.”

There was a tense silence, before Bobby dropped his head in defeat. “Sure. Fine. Whatever,” he said, still not looking up. “I’ll live in your stupid apartment. It’s fine.”

Dane smiled, finally removing his hand. “Good. I didn’t want to have to drag you there.” He gestured for Bobby to follow him. “Now come on. The forecast said the weather’s to worsen before midnight. Let’s get you inside and in some warmer clothes before it hits. And maybe something more substantial to eat than the occasional box of cold fries.”

He started walking, feeling Bobby follow at his elbow. Despite his protests, the younger one seemed excited at the prospect of being back inside an actual residence, albeit an apartment. As they got closer to the complex, he developed a bounce in his step that made Dane’s grin grow.

He fumbled with his keys, unlocking the door and letting the warm blast of air hit them. Shaking the snow out of his long hair, he closed the door behind Bobby and shrugged off his coat, hanging it next to the door and venturing deeper into the apartment. Bobby followed along behind, curious. He glanced into doorways as he passed, though there wasn’t much to see. Dane wasn’t home enough to bother decorating, preferring to keep it minimalist.

“I haven’t been shopping lately, so there’s not much to eat as of now,” he said when they got to the kitchen. He opened the freezer. “I do have some boxed lasagna. Does that sound good?”

Bobby’s stomach rumbled in response. He flushed, looking away. “S’fine,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”

Dane went about preparing it, turning the oven on to preheat. “It will take an hour or so to bake, but we can watch something in the meantime. I have Netflix.”

The oven beeped a few minutes later, done preheating. He slid the frozen lasagna in, then set a timer. “Come,” he said, heading to the hallway. “Let’s get you into some dry clothes. I might have an old shirt or two that will fit you.”

Bobby followed Dane into his bedroom, as silent as ever. He still had his ratty coat pulled tight around himself. He looked around, examining the little details of the room, and started when Dane spoke up.

“The bathroom is right over there,” Dane said, nodding at the door to the attached bath. “You can shower if you want. I’ll find something for you to wear and leave it in front of the door. You can come out when ready, I’ll start up a show.”

Bobby nodded mutely and left. Dane heard shuffling, then the sound of water running. He dug through his drawers until he found something suitable, then folded it neatly and left it where he said he would.

About a half hour later, Bobby emerged from the bedroom. Dane was reclining on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table. He’d taken his shoes off and changed into something more comfortable, and pulled up _Firefly._ He glanced at the doorway when Bobby entered, and smiled.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” The young artist wandered over to the couch, eyeing the spot next to Dane. He seemed hesitant.

Dane sat up and moved over, giving him more space. “Come. I was just about to start. The food should be ready by the end of the episode.”

Bobby settled down, leaving a decent amount of space between them. He sat stiffly, trying to touch as little of the pristine leather couch as possible. Dane rolled his eyes and pressed play, starting the episode.

Over a half an hour later, Bobby was sagged into the couch, eyes drooping. The credits were just starting to roll when the beeping of the oven startled him awake. He jumped up, looking around frantically. Dane held out his hands, trying to soothe his panicked expression off his face.

“Bobby, Bobby, calm down,” he soothed. “We’re just in my apartment, everything is fine.”

“S-Sorry,” Bobby stuttered, sitting back down. He was back to being stiff and unresponsive. “Force of habit. Won’t happen again. My bad.”

“It’s alright,” Dane said quietly, rubbing his thumb in small circles on Bobby’s shoulder. The action seemed to pacify him, and some of the stiffness went out of his shoulders. “I’ll go get the food, alright?”

Bobby hummed, and Dane got up. It took him a minute to get the lasagna out and plate it, and by the time he got back into the living room Bobby was calm again.

They dug in, the next episode starting on its own. Bobby ate voraciously, and Dane wondered when his last full meal was. He was worried Bobby would eat himself sick when he went to get seconds, but he sat his plate down eventually and sighed.

“Thanks,” he said. “You don’t know how much this means.”

“I have an idea,” Dane replies, smiling. “Let’s finish this episode and turn in for the night, shall we? It’s getting late.” He set his plate aside. “I have a guest room I’ve never used. The bed doesn’t have sheets and the mattress is probably dusty, but that is a quick fix. Sound good?”

Bobby hummed, already focusing on the episode.

They finished the show in relative silence. The late hour was making itself known to Dane, and despite needing to set up the spare room, he felt his eyes drooping. His head dipped a couple times, snapping back up before he got a crick in his neck. He rubbed the corner of his eye and yawned.

The credits again came on, and he turned to say something to Bobby. He stopped at the warm feeling of something pressing into his shoulder.

Bobby’s head had fallen, and he was snoring softly. Setting up the bed forgotten, Dane looked at the younger man and smiled. For the first time in what was probably a while, Bobby felt safe enough somewhere to fall asleep around someone else. His belly full and in fresh, dry clothes, it didn’t take long for that to happen. Dane sighed, then shifted so Bobby’s head wouldn’t fall. He leaned against the arm of the couch and grabbed the remote, shutting the TV off. _Guess I’ll be staying here for the night,_ he thought, propping his feet back on the table.

Minutes later, he was out, Bobby’s head still pillowed in the crook of his neck.


	10. Of Hauntings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive wanted to do an au where danes a typical ghost for awhile now but never really found the right prompt to write about concerning that. then i remembered that au prompt that was like 'person a is a ghost haunting the house that person b lives in. person b is a tired, broke college kid who takes no shit from person a'
> 
> or whatever. idk
> 
> just an excuse to write dane trying to be big and scary and bobby just being apathetic the blood running down his walls

“Built in the early 1690s, this house has lived through some interesting times. The original owner was a man accused of witchcraft during the Salem witch trials, and was stoned to death just outside by an angry mob. They dragged his body off and burned it, but legends say his spirit still haunts-”

“Okay, but what’s the price?”

“...Excuse me?”

“The price. You know, how much it costs?”

“Er, you were looking for a thirty year mortgage? So factoring in the five percent interest rate, and the monthly payment you were looking to do, that's about... one hundred and forty-six dollars per month.”

“Hell yes, I’ll take it.”

“B-But sir, the hauntings-”

“Fuck ghosts, I’ll take it.”

“But-”

_“Take my fucking money.”_

The salesman sighed and nodded. “Alright sir, it’s yours. The first payment is due moving day, but after that it’s the first of every month. Enjoy your new home.”

Bobby Pendragon hefted his bag onto his shoulder and smiled crookedly.

“I sure will.”

* * *

The moving truck was disappointingly empty, but his desk wouldn’t fit in his SUV, so he rented one anyways. A small stack of boxes, mostly books, and a tiny twin inflatable mattress took up most of the rest of the space. There was a laundromat nearby, and when scoping out nearby Bobby had also discovered a great little cheap Chinese place he already planned on frequenting. A small counter fridge was all he needed, but he could get that at Wal-Mart next time he went.

Bobby stood in front of his new house and sighed. “Yay,” he said in dull acceptance. He tossed his keys from hand to hand as he looked back to the moving truck, debating going ahead and moving things in. He needed to return the rental truck by the end of the day, but it was only noon. He decided to wait a bit and explore the house first.

Unlocking the door, Bobby was hit with the musty smell of disuse. It had been awhile since the last owners abandoned the place, and a thick layer of dust coated every surface. A coffee table sat in the middle of the living room, a sheet-covered armchair in front of it. Peeking into the kitchen, Bobby saw it already came equipped with a fridge. He mentally crossed that off his list and thanked whoever left it. He opened it and almost gagged at the smell- they forgot to clean it out before cutting power. He needed to do that before he got anything to put in it, but that could wait for later.

Bobby took a deep breath. _Home sweet home_.

He turned to the open door to start unloading, when it suddenly slammed shut in his face. A chill raced down Bobby’s spine, and he could’ve sworn he felt someone breathing over his shoulder. _Get out_ , they seemed to be saying, though he couldn’t hear anything.

Bobby scoffed. The realtor was right about the ghost, at least.

“Nice try," he said. "Look, whoever you are? I’m not gonna bother you. I don’t care. I’m a broke college kid with no time on his hands. I’ll be at school most of the time, and work when I’m not. I won’t intrude, and even if I did, it’s my house now. You’ve been dead a few hundred years, you can survive a couple decades with me until I move out or die myself. So deal with it, and if you break any of my things you bet your ghostly ass I’ll have an exorcist over here in no time flat.”

He turned, catching the faintest flicker of a startled expression in midair before it disappeared. He smiled, having caught the spirit. “Beat it, buddy. You can’t hurt me.”

Only silence responded, so Bobby took that as the go-ahead. He turned back, opening the door and leaving it open so he could bring in his things. It stayed open, but the chill stayed around. Bobby shook his head and went to get his desk.

* * *

 Bobby jerked awake for the fifth time that night. He groaned and sat up, stretching. He grimaced at the line of drool that had made its way down his face, pooling on his textbook. Wiping it off, he stood to get another cup of coffee from the kitchen. _Thank you, Uncle Press_ , he thought. The coffee machine he left as a going-away gift was a godsend, and Bobby was sure he wouldn’t have survived this long without it.

He sat back down at his desk a minute later, staring blankly at his history textbook as he sipped the hot coffee. The extreme temperature didn’t bother him anymore, being too far gone to care. He had to finish this five thousand word paper by six the next morning. He was only half done. It was creeping on two AM.

He was fucked.

The wind picked up outside, moving branches that scratched against his bedroom window. He watched them, unblinking, as they swayed and threw shadows across his wall. The chill from that first day was back, crawling up his spine, and Bobby swore he saw the shadow of a man standing at his window before the image faded away.

All the sounds from the world seemed to disappear. The outside noise of traffic, the creaks and groans of the ancient house, even the scittering of rats in the attic were all gone, replaced only by the howling wind. The lights flickered, then shut off completely. It would have scared Bobby, had he not been so exhausted and done with the world.

When the glowing blue eyes started staring out at him from the dark corners of his room, Bobby snapped.

“Dude, cut it out. I’m not scared, I’m just irritated.”

The wind died down. Everything was silent. The blue eyes still stared at him, confusion in their depths. Bobby couldn’t see anything else, but he didn’t need to. He stared right at those eyes, glaring with all his tired brain’s might.

“I’m fucking exhausted. This paper is due tomorrow morning and I haven’t slept the past two nights, so unless you can help me write about eighteenth-century New England then get the fuck out.” He clicked his pen open again and glared at his lamp. “And turn my lights back on while you’re at it.”

The lights in the room flickered back on, illuminating the corner the eyes were in. They were gone, nothing left in their place, unsurprisingly. Bobby sighed and went back to paging through his book, looking for sources.

A slight wind stirred up out of nowhere, brushing Bobby’s hair out of his face. He growled. “What did I say, you stubborn fucking-”

The wind picked up suddenly, flipping through the pages in his book. Bobby sat back, watching as the pages turned rapidly, settling open on a certain page. He raised an eyebrow as the wind died down, returning everything to normal, but with his book open to a completely different page.

He leaned forward, reading a few lines from the new chapter, and brightened up. This was just what he needed to finish his paper!

“Er, thanks, I guess,” he said awkwardly. “Wasn’t expecting you to actually help. My bad.”

He got the feeling the spirit was laughing at him, though he still didn’t hear anything. Anything except the groaning of his house and the sound of a car alarm in the distance. Bobby smiled to himself and went back to writing, determined to get the paper done.

* * *

A couple weeks later, the spirit showed up again. Bobby had gotten used to it randomly appearing and doing nothing, maybe making the windowpanes rattle or opening a door he’d just closed. Sometimes it just hovered over his shoulder, a cold presence watching him for a few minutes before disappearing for another week or two. Its visits were few and far between, but Bobby had begun to accept and even look forward to the random visits.It gave him something other than school and work to focus on, at least.

So a couple weeks after the last visit, when the spirit Bobby had affectionately nicknamed ‘Fuckface’ showed up again for something bigger, Bobby wasn’t surprised. He was irritated, wished it could’ve picked a better time, but wasn’t surprised.

He ran out of his bedroom, hopping on one foot as he pulled his shoe on. He cursed as he tripped over a raised floorboard and almost fell. Catching his balance, he turned just in time to see it sinking back into the floor.

“You know I’m late, what are you doing?” he asked angrily. The spirit didn’t respond, as usual.

Bobby rushed into the living room and grabbed his bag. He was about to leave, when the door locked in front of his eyes.

“ _Goddamnit!_ ” he yelled. “I don’t have time for this, _let me out!_ ”

Something banged on the window next to the door. Bobby’s head snapped to it, startled. The spirit hadn’t been this violent since that first day. His frustration ebbed in favor of confusion.

Blood began seeping down from the ceiling, trailing down the glass of the window. Bobby groaned. “Dude, you know I’m gonna have to clean that up, right? You’re fucking nasty. And I’m still late!”

The door remained locked, no matter how hard Bobby tugged on it. He growled in frustration, turning back to the bloody window to yell some more. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw what the dripping blood had spelled out.

_PROJECT_

Bobby gasped. “My project! I almost forgot my project!” He dropped his bag and ran back to his room, where he dug through his desk drawer until he found his flash drive. It contained the powerpoint for his final project for physics, which he still needed to print out before class. He’d almost forgotten it, and if the spirit hadn’t reminded him, he would’ve left it at home and lost fifty percent of his grade.

He ran back to the living room, slipping the flash drive into his pocket. “Thanks man, sorry about yelling at you. I’m just in a rush on too little sleep. I-”

He stopped again as he got back to where he was. The words on the window had changed, now spelling out: _GO. LATE._

“Yes, rambling, going now.” Bobby snatched up his bag and threw open the door, which was now unlocked. “See ya!”

As he went to lock the door behind him, he glanced at the outside of the window. The blood was gone, leaving it in its original grimy state. Bobby laughed as he felt the door lock on its own under his fingers. It shuddered, urging him to go before he made himself any later.

“You really don’t want me to be late for class, do you?” he asked.

The door shuddered again, as if someone were banging on it from the other side. He backed away, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’m going.”

He made it to class only a few minutes late, better than he’d been expecting.

* * *

With Christmas break finally upon him, Bobby found a chance to relax from the stress of college. He took advantage of the free week by going out, buying a bottle of wine and renting some cheesy Christmas movies, prepared to spend the entire week doing absolutely nothing. Without anything to do the next day except go to work that afternoon, he settled in and relaxed.

About halfway through the movie, he felt the telltale shiver run down his spine. The spirit was back, though it seemed it just wanted to hang around this time instead of half-heartedly trying to scare him.

“Hey Fuckface, you wanna watch this with me?” Bobby finally offered after about ten minutes of it doing nothing. “It’s the Grinch special edition~” he sang. “I’m sure you’d love it. He's basically you.”

The presence didn’t respond, but after a few minutes, Bobby felt it shift, getting closer. He didn’t feel anything physically change, but he had the feeling the spirit had just settled down to watch the movie with him.

The credits rolled some time later, without any more interaction between the two. Bobby got up to use the bathroom and grab some popcorn, and when he came back to start the second movie he noticed things had changed slightly. His journal, which he always kept in his desk drawer, was lying open on the coffee table. He felt his defenses rise. Was the spirit going through his things?

Getting closer, he noticed it was turned all the way to the last page. No pen was in sight, but a message was still scrawled in elegant script on the paper.

_I wish you would stop calling me that._

“What…?” Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Are you... Trying to talk to me?”

Words appeared on the page, startling him. They traced out as if someone were writing them, though there was no hand to write nor pencil to do so. _Obviously. Are you really so dull?_

Bobby huffed. “Alright then Fuckface, what do you want me to call you?”

A moment, then: _Saint Dane is fine, thank you._

“Wow, you’re even more pretentious than I thought,” Bobby laughed. “How about Dane? I know you’ve got the whole ‘witchcraft’ thing going on but you’re sure as hell no Saint.”

He felt irritation seep into the air, layered over a faint sense of amusement. _As you wish._

Bobby threw himself back onto the couch. “Glad we got that cleared up. What you wanna watch next? We’ve got _Miracle on 34th Street, Santa Buddies,_ and _A Charlie Brown Christmas._ My dad always made us watch that last one, it’s become tradition. Any preference?”

He picked up his journal and left it open on his lap, waiting for an answer. His breath caught as the chilling presence seemed to lean over him, writing. He almost didn’t notice the words that showed up.

_I have not seen any of them. Pick as you will, I am not partial._

“O-Okay,” Bobby stuttered. He fumbled with the journal, pushing it off his lap onto the couch next to him and standing on shaky legs. The amusement in the air doubled as he collapsed next to the shitty DVD player he picked up from the thrift store, ejecting the old disk and putting in the new one. He wasn’t even paying attention to which movie he put in, just the fact that he swore he could hear the spirit laughing at him. He pressed play and awkwardly sat back down on the couch.

The presence settled back down next to him, the cold radiating from a spot far too close to his shoulder. Bobby stayed hyperfocused on that, and missed the opening credits of the movie.

An hour later, despite the adrenaline in his system, the lack of sleep pulled Bobby under. The last things he was aware of were a solid arm pressing against his shoulder, the icy coldness seeping into his skin, and a flicker of blue eyes watching over him before he was out like a light.


	11. Of Assassins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey havent been on in awhile but u know what i have been doing? playing a lot of assassins creed. so yall get an assassin au bc i also remember seeing a post where someone imagined bobby as an assassin and dane as a templar and i dont remember the details of it but it was awesome so have something thats only a little bit like that post tbh
> 
> this is also the longest chapter to date with over a whopping 3700 words

A man walked along the busy market street. He glanced up at the sound of an eagles cry, then back at the necklace he'd been examining. With a nod of his head, he pocketed it. The shopkeeper was unaware of the theft, dealing with another unruly customer.  The thief smirked and continued on. 

Above the scene, a lone figure watched silently. Crouched in the shadow cast by the afternoon sun, the man reclined, legs thrown over the edge of the roof. He kicked his foot idly, watching the scene unfold and fingering a throwing knife. 

The thief sidestepped a crowd coming his way, darting into an alley. Away from prying eyes, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his prize. Greedy fingers fondled the treasure, admiring it from many angles. 

"Another success," he chuckled, holding the necklace up to the light to watch the jewels shine. "The idiot never even saw-"

Cold metal sprouted from his neck and he dropped the jewelry. With a confused gurgle, he fell to his knees, the blood in his throat preventing him from crying out. He collapsed, dead in less than a minute. 

The assassin dropped from the rooftop, landing in a graceful crouch. He pulled the knife from the thief's neck, wiping the blood of on the dead man's shirt. Slipping it back in its sheath with the others, he scooped up the stolen necklace and considered it. Shrugging, he tucked it in his pouch. 

Turning around, he groaned. 

"Loor, what are you doing here?" he grumbled. 

The female assassin glared at him. "I was sent to keep an eye on you, as well as I should have. I see you are still disobeying your uncle's orders not to meddle in common affairs." 

"The guy stole from that merchant, you saw!" Bobby protested. "I was just... helping the guards catch a thief. That's all." 

Loor crossed her arms. "So you were going to return that necklace?" 

"Of course." 

"And how were you going to explain how you came upon it?" Her smug grin was barely there, but Bobby saw. He hated it. 

"Tell the truth,  _obviously,"_ he retorted, shooting back a smirk of his own. 

Her eyebrow crawled higher. "You would willingly tell a random civilian that you killed?" 

Bobby blanched. "Well, say it like that..." 

Loor rolled her eyes and held out her hand. Bobby sighed. He pulled out the necklace and dropped it in her open hand, crossing his arms as she tossed it in the air and caught it. 

"We do not meddle with innocents, or common crime. That is part of our Creed. A minor part, but a part nonetheless." Loor grabbed onto a ladder leaning against the wall and started up. "It keeps us out of the eye of authorities." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Bobby mumbled, following her up the hard way. He pushed off a windowsill, scaling the wall like a monkey. He got to the top and stopped, waiting for Loor to catch up. Her climbing was slower with the necklace clutched in her hand, but she made it mere moments after he did. 

Loor crawled to the edge of the roof, overlooking the market square. They were directly above the stand the necklace had been stolen from. She held the piece of jewelry over the stand, aiming carefully, and let go. It fell, sparkling in the sunlight, before landing neatly in the center of the table. The noise it made caught the attention of the merchant, who looked up to see where it came from. Loor and Bobby ducked out of his line of sight. 

"There," Loor said. "That is handled. Now let us go back to the base, and speak with your uncle. He has a mission for you, though I am not sure how he will take news of your recent activities." 

Bobby groaned. "Can telling Uncle Press wait? I haven't had a contract in so  _long_." 

Loor smirked. "Calm, boy. Come." 

* * *

Grandmaster Press Tilton was standing in the entryway, arms crossed, a stern look on his face when they arrived. Loor inclined her head in greeting, Bobby doing the same, though his nod felt more like a cower. She led the way into the base, Bobby scampering behind, Press closing the door after them. 

As soon as the door was closed, he turned and glared at Bobby. 

"A little kitty told me she saw you murder an innocent today," he said. His voice was even, but Bobby saw the anger in his eyes. 

_Kasha_ , Bobby internally growled. That stealthy assassin needed to keep her nose in her own business instead of spying on everyone else. He gulped. 

"I-it wasn't what it seemed, uncle," he claimed. "That man stole from an innocent shopkeeper, and I was just being the voice of justice."

"Nonetheless, we do not deal in common crime," Press stated, mirroring Loor's words from earlier. "It keeps us out of the-" 

"Yes, I know, out of the eye of authorities," Bobby interrupted, waving his hand. "I've heard it over and over again, you don't need to keep telling me. It's just that the guards never do anything, and people like that man keep getting away with it, and I'm sick of it. Someone needs to do something!" 

Press sighed. "Bobby, we can't get involved in matters like that. We might get exposed. We can't risk that. I'm sorry." 

Bobby held his gaze for a moment, before dropping it. He crossed his arms again and murmured affirmation.  _I'll just need to be quieter about it_. 

Press shook his head, watching his nephew. He glanced at Loor, who shrugged. 

"Well then, now that that's over, I have a contract for you." 

Bobby perked back up at his uncle's words. "Really?  _Finally!"_

Press procured a letter from his pocket and handed it to Bobby. "Alder recovered this from a courier earlier. The Templars are convening in secret this evening to met up with a diplomat from across the sea. He has information about our headquarters there that he plans to share with them, for a price. We need that information to die with him." 

Bobby unfolded the letter, eyes skimming over the information. It was a meeting time, and place, signed by the initials 'SD'. It was vague, revealing nothing of intent. "What's his name?"

"Saint Dane," Press said gravely. "He used to be one of us, but was misguided. He split off and disappeared for some years, only reappearing occasionally to give information to the Templars. We fear he has joined them. I regret having to end the life of someone who I was once close to, but we must do what has to be done to preserve our Creed." He took back the letter when Bobby offered it, crumpling it in his fist and tossing it in a nearby brazier. "Kill him, dispose of the body. Make sure there are no witnesses. You know the drill." 

Bobby nodded. "Is Loor coming with me? Or someone else?" 

Press shook his head. "Loor, while one of our strongest warriors, isn't meant for this level of stealth. Dane would catch her from fifty yards away." Loor inclined her head, agreeing with this as fact. 

Press continued. "And as for the others, the only person suited to go with you is Spader."

"And he's in hiding right now, gotcha," Bobby finished. "Of course. Right as I need him, he'd be on the run for stealing some fish. Lovely." 

Press chuckled. "He is much like you. Anyways," he clapped Bobby on the shoulder. "You've got this on your own. I believe in you!" 

_Someone has to,_ Bobby thought bitterly as he went to prepare. 

_I'm gonna need more throwing knives._

* * *

Bobby's leg jiggled nervously as he perched on the edge of the roof overlooking the pier. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the man that matched the description his uncle had given him. People streamed off the boat that had just arrived, making identifying his target difficult. Heads bobbed, fancy hats and hairdos obscuring others' faces. Bobby's fist clenched and unclenched, his hidden blade shooting in and out as he fidgeted. 

Finally, when the crowd was thinning out and Bobby was starting to lose hope he'd find the man, a slick head of black hair bowed out of the door of the boat. The man rose to his full height, a handful of inches taller than those around him. He glanced over the people around him and strode forward, the crowd parting for him seemingly without thought. As his eyes passed over where Bobby was hiding, a glint of icy blue was all Bobby needed to see before he knew. 

This was his mark. 

He pressed back further into the shadows cast by the setting sun as the man passed under his hiding spot. Bobby held his breath as Dane passed, mere feet under him. After a moment, Bobby leaned back out and caught sight of him again. The man was walking with purpose, but still taking the time to look around at the sights the city had to offer. His lip curled in disgust. 

Bobby darted across the rooftops, following Dane as he wound his way through the city towards the meeting place. As they got closer, Bobby started worrying. He needed to catch the man alone, but he'd made sure to stay in the crowds thus far. If he got there before Bobby could take him out, they risked compromising their brothers across the sea. 

Suddenly, the man made a sharp turn and stepped into a side street. Bobby almost couldn't believe his luck. Without thinking as to why the man had changed his mind and gone alone, he leapt, hidden blade ready. 

Instead of sinking into the soft flesh of the man's neck, the blade sparked harmlessly off another. Bobby jumped back, startled, as Dane spun to meet his blow, his own hidden blade released. 

"You're very loud, you know," he drawled, standing tall. He sheathed his blade, covering the bracer with his robes again. Bobby saw, before the hand disappeared into the folds of fabric, where the old member was missing a finger. He remembered they used to do that, and only recently fazed out the tradition. His own ring finger tingled at the thought. 

His eyes snapped back to those of the other man, realizing he'd been spacing out. Dane was watching him carefully, but curiously. 

"Who are you, assassin?" he asked, his voice deep and melodic. 

Bobby shook his head. "Your end." 

He leapt again, intending to take the man off guard, but his blade was up again before Bobby could even blink. They clashed against each other, metal singing against metal, as Bobby fought to get an opening. Dane fought back just a viciously, white teeth flashing as he grunted under the assault. Bobby pressed harder, snarling as Dane's guard stayed stubbornly up. His arms protested against the strain, but still he fought on. 

A noise from outside the alley distracted Dane for all of a split second, but it was the split second Bobby needed. As the man twitched at the sound, Bobby lunged forward, managing to nick Dane's cheek before he darted away again. 

A rivulet of blood dripped down his pale cheekbone. Dane idly swept it away, staring at the red spot on his finger in silence. Then he started to laugh. 

"You are brave, novice. And tougher than I gave credit for." His smug grin was infuriating, and Bobby entertained thoughts of slicing it off his face. "But, can you keep up with me?" 

And he was gone. Bobby blinked, then looked up. Dane had leapt straight up, catching the windowsill of the second floor and hauling himself up in an instant. He climbed far faster than Bobby thought possible, and was over the edge of the roof before Bobby thought to even follow. 

He growled, running at the wall and kicking off, grabbing the ledge. He scampered up the wall after the man, rolling onto the roof and shooting to his feet in one fluid motion. Glancing around, Bobby caught sight of the man's robes whipping around a corner on the roof next to him. Bobby followed, leaping across the rooftops in hot pursuit. 

They darted from rooftop to rooftop, building to building, Bobby getting close enough to grasp the tail end of the man's robes before losing him again. Across the city they went, Dane leading his pursuer in circles, baiting him and staying just out of reach. 

Eventually, they slowed. Bobby's legs ached, his hands chafed raw from where he had been climbing and crawling. His arms shook as he hauled himself up onto the last roof, collapsing onto his back. His breath was labored, his chest heaving. He couldn't go on. 

At the sound of chuckling, he looked up. Dane had his hands on his knees, obviously winded as well, but not nearly as much. His head bowed as he caught his breath. He looked up suddenly, catching Bobby's eyes. His own were sparkling. 

"It has been a while since someone actually gave me a challenge like that," he gasped. "I'd almost missed the feeling." 

"Glad- _huff_ -glad I could be of service."

Dane laughed again, offering Bobby his hand. The assassin eyed the hand warily, before clasping it. Dane pulled him to his feet, then made to pull away. 

Bobby held on tighter. 

"But that doesn't make us friends."

He leapt at the man again, finally having the upper hand and startling him. He didn't have a good angle to unsheathe his blade, so he instead opted for tackling Dane. The man went down hard. 

Bobby's hidden blade dug into the ground next to Dane's head, missing its mark. The man twisted, rolling until Bobby was underneath him. His own blade slid out, an inch away from Bobby's throat. Taking the risk, Bobby continued their momentum, rolling them over again until he was once again on top. 

They were at the edge of the roof now, inches from a long drop to the street below. Adrenaline spiked, and Bobby struggled to push them away from the edge, digging his feet in before they toppled over. He looked over the edge, the height never before making him worry, but now a dizzying feeling flooded him. 

He glanced back down at Dane, scared for the moment he'd let his guard down, but stopped at the heated look the man was giving him. 

"What-" Bobby gulped. "Why are you looking at me like that?" 

"You are fascinating _._ " Dane murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down Bobby's spine. He shifted, adrenaline spiking again when he realized what position their tussling had left them in. Bobby straddled the taller man's waist, knees pinning his arm with the hidden blade down. Dane's unpinned hand held an iron grip on Bobby's arm, keeping his own blade away from his neck. They were locked in a stalemate, in a most intimate position. 

Dane pushed forward, slowly. His darkened gaze never strayed from Bobby as he leaned up, freeing his trapped arm. Bobby didn't notice, heat pooling in his stomach as the man drew closer. His eyes flickered to the scratch on Dane's cheek, a trail of dried blood staining the pale flesh. His eyes followed the trail, dropping to his thin lips. A pink tongue darted out, wetting them, and Bobby stuttered in his breath, eyes shooting back up to meet blue ones a lot closer than before. 

The hand holding Bobby's blade away loosened, trailing up the arm, caressing his shoulder and drawing him closer. Bobby's eyes fell to half mast as hot breath washed across his face.  _I shouldn't do this,_ his mind supplied behind a haze of heat. He ignored it, and leaned in. 

In a flash, he was on his back, cold metal pressing into his neck. His eyes jumped open, landing on the hidden blade, now unhidden, freezing and stinging and somehow making him more excited. Dane leaned over him, dark black locks tickling Bobby's face. His eyes were now in shadow, but they seemed to glow from within. 

"You are so...  _fascinating_ ," Dane repeated, naught but a whisper. 

Suddenly the blade slid back into its bracer. Lips crashed into Bobby's, tearing a startled moan out of him. He grabbed the man's shoulders, holding tight as Dane pressed him into the hard roof. A deft tongue traced the inside of his mouth, twining around his own and dragging him into a dance that had sparks dancing up his spine. 

Bobby groaned, hands sliding up Dane's shoulders, cupping his neck and turning his head to better deepen the kiss. His hands tangled in the long black hair. Dane's hands found Bobby's hips, tugging him closer. Bobby's metal armor dug into his sides, making him grunt in discomfort. 

Long fingers felt their way under the pieces of metal, prying loose the ties and clasps that held it on. With a gasp, the chestplate released, and Bobby sat up to shrug it off. 

Dane's hands roamed across his chest, pushing up the plain white tunic Bobby wore under his armor. His hands were cold, but they left trails of fire in their wake. A whimper slipped past the assassin's lips as long nails scratched lightly at his back, dragging him in. The space left by the missing finger felt weird, but the thought was pushed to the back of Bobby's mind. 

They were stopped from going any further by a shout. 

"Hey! You're not supposed to be up here!" A guard was slipping down the roof tiles on the building across the street from them, crossbow in hand. "Get down!" 

Bobby's head shot up, breaking the kiss. Dane growled, obviously hating the interruption. He turned to glare at the guard, who was still stumbling their way, oblivious to what he'd just interrupted. Bobby imagined one of his knives buried in the hapless guard's neck, then realized what he was considering. 

What was he  _thinking?_ Murdering an innocent just so he could continue making out with a- with a  _Templar?_ Bobby shook his head to clear it and pushed Dane away. 

"This needs to stop. This- this is wrong," Bobby stammered. "You're a Templar. I'm supposed to kill you!" 

Dane sat back on his heels, a sour look on his face. "While that last part is correct, in a sense, I am not and will never associate myself with those people. I am not a Templar." 

Confusion. "But, you're giving them valuable information on the Assassin's. You're at least in league with them." 

"I have my own motives, my own plans, apart from either faction," Dane hissed. "Siding with them here is simply the best course of action."

Bobby was still confused, but the guard was clambering onto their roof now, crossbow raised, so he decided this was a conversation for a later time. "C'mon," he said, grabbing Dane's arm and shooting to his feet. "We need to go. Right now." 

He just barely remembered to grab his armored chestplate before darting out of the way of a fired bolt. The guard shouted another warning, loading for a second shot, but by the time he looked up again, they were gone. 

Darting across the rooftops in a mirror of before, they were soon far from the scene. Bobby struggled back into his armor as they went, stumbling occasionally and losing his footing. At one point, he risked slipping off a balcony, having missed his landing. A hand shot out, steadying him until he regained his balance. Bobby looked up, meeting Dane's eyes. 

"Okay, we need to talk about this," he blurted out. 

"What is there to talk about?" Dane asked lightly, perching on the balcony railing. His robes hung off the edge behind him, fluttering in the light breeze that had picked up. 

Bobby sighed. "You know what I mean," he said. "We-"

"Look, I won't give them my information, okay?" Dane snapped. "Are you happy?"

"..." Instead of answering, Bobby shifted, sitting down on the balcony next to Dane. He looked down at the street below, where a few late stragglers were heading home for the evening. The night crowd was started to emerge, poking their heads out and walking about, mixing with everyone else. Bobby shivered, just realizing the temperature drop from the dark. Now that he'd stopped running, the cold was making itself known. 

A warm arm pressed into his. Bobby leaned into the touch without thinking. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the other man, wondering who would speak first. 

Dane took the initiative, and sighed. "I will burn the information I was to give today, but I am not making any promises about the future. Your Creed is not for me, nor is theirs. This is my final decision." 

Bobby bit his lip, but nodded. Dane stood, using the top of the covered balcony to steady himself. He looked down at Bobby in the half-light, his expression unreadable. The new scar on his face was a dark line against white skin. 

"I will see you again, young assassin. Count on it." 

He leapt, landing in a flower cart below. Bobby watched as he brushed himself off and melted into the small crowd, disappearing as easily as he'd appeared in Bobby's life, until the assassin was as alone as he'd begun. He looked up, watching an eagle circle lazily over the city, making its final rounds before returning to its nest for the night. 

He figured he might want to do the same. Standing, he stretched, and jumped. 


	12. Of First Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> four words: color porn and regrets
> 
> this got LONG
> 
> also i didnt proof read most of this bc its been awhile and im tired of looking at it so if u see any inconsistencies or mess ups dont hesitate to fuckin deck me

Of First Contact

All of eternity was laid out before him. Every day, every life, every star and galaxy and beginning and end, end to end and never-ending. Twinkling, bright dark masses, stars singing their dying breaths and making ways for new lives to come after, new stars. Planets are but dots on this cosmic map, stars and galaxies and nebulae smudges, getting bigger as you go but somehow seeming small, so small in the grand scheme of things. Oh, how the universe made you feel so small, made you feel so insignificant in its significance. How it made you want to weep with the sheer size of it all. With the sheer beauty of it all.

“ _Pendragon, come in. Pendragon, I repeat, come in.”_

Bobby snapped out of his daze and turned away from the window. He tapped the communicator on his ear. “Coming in. What’s up, Patrick?”

_“Bobby, where the bloody hell are you?”_ he asked, dropping formalities. _“Your uncle’s worried sick! You’ve been gone an hour with no contact to anyone!”_

He jumped as he heard this. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, synched with the ship’s clock, and cursed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Guess I spaced out a bit there.”

He smirked as the technician groaned through the link. _“You and your goddamn space puns. One would think after spending your life in space, they’d finally die down. But_ no _, you’re still going strong, aren’t you?”_

Chuckling, Bobby brought the subject back on track. “So what’s Press want with me now? I finished re-tuning that skimmer I fucked up, and helped Aja clean out the engine yesterday, like he said.” A thought occurred to him, and he sighed. “Please don’t tell me Siry got stuck in another air vent. Tell someone else to get him out, I’ve done my share of that this week.”

Laughing, Patrick stopped him. “ _No, Siry’s fine. I think. Might want to call him too just to be sure, but that’s not what Press wants.”_

“Then what is it?”

_“Beats me. All I know is he said you’d like it, so get on with it.”_

Bobby raised an eyebrow, which Patrick couldn’t hear, but shrugged. “Alright. Tell him I’ll be there in a minute. He’s on the bridge, right?”

_“As always.”_

“Cool. Thanks man.” Bobby tapped his communicator again, cutting the call. He looked back out the reinforced window. The infinite beauty of space tried to pull him back, tried to drag him into stunned silence once again, but he managed to turn away, sighing.

Floating through the vast emptiness of space led way for intrusive thoughts, limitless time to think about things. Anything, everything. It was terrifying in its beauty, and Bobby wondered if there was something wrong with him. He had never been this introspective back home, on Earth. How long ago was that? Far too long, a lifetime ago. Too long to remember that fateful day, when his uncle had swept him up and taken him far away, on a ship set for destinations unknown, vague and never told. Others were there, or joined them on the way, no explanation ever given, ever needed.

It had been years, but this ship was all Bobby knew. They stopped on occasion, on other worlds, planets far from human knowledge. They never stayed long, only mingling with the locals the bare minimum. The others on their ship were human, stowaways or orphans taken from bases and places not near Earth. The only true alien Bobby had seen, had known, in his time on this ship was a feline-like creature named Kasha. She was nice enough, headstrong, but left them to set out on her own before Bobby really got to know her.

He was lonely, he had come to realize. The other travelers had become family to him, but he always felt like he was missing something.

So he filled that unknown void with the unknown universe, watching it and studying it, trying to understand what no one man could hope to understand. Trying to figure out if it held secrets (which it did), and if it would tell him (which it won’t).

He was lonely, but there was nothing to change that. Bobby had come to accept this.

The automatic door whooshed shut behind him as he stepped onto the bridge. Aja looked up from where she was recalibrating a control panel, nodding as he entered, and went back to explaining what the different wires did to Alder. He nodded along, clearly trying, but the info was bound to be lost within the hour.

The only other person on deck was Press, who also looked up as Bobby entered. He raised his hand in greeting.

“There you are!” he laughed, closing the hologram he’d been studying intently. “Out watching the nothing pass us by again, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Bobby mumbled. “Patrick said you wanted me?”

“Hmm? Oh!” Seeming to remember something, Press waved his hand, bringing the hologram back up. “Yes, I was just thinking. You and I haven’t done anything together in a long time, right? Well, what better bonding activity than exploring ancient alien ruins?”

Bobby started, then glanced at the image before him. What looked like a bombed out cathedral stood in the middle of a destroyed city, faint wisps of blue… something, floating around it. Foliage had started taking over, but it was all small bushes, all the plant-life much smaller than he remembered from Earth.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” he asked, raising his hands to turn the image. He looked around the area nearby, searching for wild animals, enemies, anything that might hurt them.

“It’s perfectly safe, Bobby,” Press said. “It’s been abandoned for four thousand years. I don’t even think the native fauna still hang around there. It’s fine.”

Bobby was hesitant, but excited. Finally, the prospect of getting off this ship for a few hours? Exploring an alien ruin that was probably, possibly dangerous?

Sign him the _fuck_ up.

* * *

 “You know, I’m really starting to regret this decision.”

Press laughed. “You really should have thought this through, Bobby. You know I don’t make anything easy.”

As he stumbled over _yet another_ root, slashing his face on the sharp branches of a dead tree, Bobby grumbled. “I thought these were small trees. They looked small on the hologram.”

“It’s all a matter of perspective,” Press said, being cryptic as always.

“What the hell does that even… mean…” He trailed off as they pushed through into a clearing, and Bobby’s mouth fell.

What seemed like a normal-sized cathedral earlier, surrounded by tiny foliage and small bushes, towered over them now. A burned out shell of a building, it still managed to dwarf the humans that now approached it. Blackened bricks crumbled under his hand as Bobby hauled himself up over a fallen wall, trying to get a better look.

“What kind of people even lived here?” he asked, taking in the still-standing doorway, which was twice his height, and the stairs, which for some reason, were his size. He walked up them, still looking around at the weird proportions of the building.

“No clue,” Press responded jovially. “But they sure were weird, huh?”

They continued in silence, apart from the occasional curse from Bobby as he tripped over debris. The world around them seemed silent too, no sounds of life moving about them. Only the wind through the leaves of the trees, the grass hissing as they stomped through it, thin stalks scratching against each other.

Inside the cathedral, the view was no less awe-inspiring than the outside. Any furniture or decorations had disintegrated long ago, leaving nothing but a big, open area. A gaping hole in the ceiling let in the afternoon light, casting deep shadows that hid vast swaths of the room from view. The remaining walls towered above them, covered in dark purple ivy that trailed towards the ground. It was breathtaking.

Bobby snapped out of his daze and looked around. His uncle was gone.

“Uncle Press?” he called, suddenly worried.

“I’m fine, I’m over here!” came a response from one of the connected rooms. Bobby sighed, relieved.

He stepped towards the center of the room, taking in the sheer size of it all. He felt like an ant in a giant’s kingdom, insignificant and at risk of being sprayed with poison. It really was beautiful, though, and Bobby found himself smiling at he wandered around.

His neck prickled. Bobby turned to one of the shadowed corners, where the pitch blackness seemed to beckon him. His foot moved without his command, and he had to force himself to stop. No going into dark corners where anything could hide. Bad Bobby.

He turned back, ignoring the prickling feeling of being watched, and ventured further into the cathedral.

Steps led up to a raised dias, separate from the main area but still easily visible. Bobby guessed that this was where any religious ceremonies were performed, easily in view of a crowd seated below. A table of some sort of hard, stone-like material sat in the middle, a hollow in the center scooped out. It looked reminiscent of something from a Christian church back on Earth, and as Bobby stepped up to look in it, he amusingly half expected it to be filled with holy water.

He was surprised to find it actually _did_ hold liquid in it. Dark blue and still, it filled the hollow up to within an inch of the brim. Curious, Bobby cautiously dipped his gloved hand in it, feeling how thin it was, like oil. It dripped off his fingers, leaving no trace. The surface stilled quickly, ripples caused by his movement gone in a matter of seconds.

Why was this here? Or better yet, why was it _still_ here, after thousands of years?

Movement behind him startled Bobby into jumping away from the bowl. “H-Hey Uncle Press, I totally wasn’t playing in some unknown possibly poisonous alien fluid!” He turned around, fully expecting to see the face of his disapproving uncle. What he didn’t expect to see was a pair of bright blue- _glowing_ blue eyes, watching him from the shadows.

Bobby froze, instinct taking over. He stayed absolutely still, keeping his eyes on the creature before him, hoping against hope it wouldn’t attack. Behind his back, he could feel the metal of his pulse rifle slung across his shoulders. He wondered if he could reach behind him and grab it before the thing got to him. He wondered if his aim was good enough to even hit it point blank.

The eyes seemed content to merely watch, however. They were the only thing visible in the darkness, glowing out from the inky blackness. With no pupil to discern where exactly it was looking, only solid, icy blue, Bobby wondered if the thing truly had seen him, or if it was just looking around.

Then a third eye, set above and between the other two, blinked open, and Bobby knew it had seen him.

His hands shook as the eyes grew bigger, the thing moving closer. It stayed in the shadows, watching him carefully. He didn’t know how he knew, but the creature looked intrigued as it gazed at him. It was just as curious as he was.

He took the chance and spoke. Keeping his voice low and free of emotion, he murmured “Hello there. My name is Bobby. Who are you?”

The eyes stared at him, unblinking. The creature didn’t respond.

He tried again. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I was just looking around.” He moved slowly, gesturing behind him at the pedestal with the bowl of weird liquid. “Is this yours? I didn’t mean to mess with it.”

It looked at the bowl, then back at him. Bobby didn’t know how he could tell this, but he trusted his instincts on that. It nodded, the glowing eyes dipping with the motion.

“Do you…” Bobby hesitated. “Do you understand me?”

Suddenly, pinpricks of light began to glow around the eyes. Trails of luminescence flickered, illuminating the creature’s body. It had been crouching, but now stood to its full height, and Bobby gasped.

Bioluminescent markings covered its face, its shoulders, trailing down its chest and around its waist. Constellations burned white across its blue-grey skin, giving the appearance of a galaxy. They lit and shifted, changing colors from white to pink to orange to white again.

It stood tall, very tall, easily twice Bobby’s height or more. Long, willowy limbs folded in front, twitching as it looked to be deciding something. A slender waist led to long legs with inverted joints that accounted for more than half its full height. Its feet were flat, with three hard hooves situated in the place of toes.

Glancing back up to its face, Bobby took in the long, almost jellyfish-like silver hair that floated down its back. The tendrils seemed to glow from within, the colors matching the bioluminescence running across its body. Its face, noseless and narrow with high cheekbones, had a strange ethereal beauty about it.

Bobby realized he was staring.

“W-Well, uh, hi,” he stammered, his hands fidgeting in front of him.

The alien stepped forward, into the light. A long tail swept out of the darkness behind it, those same spatters of light decorating it. A long, unbroken streak of light trailed up the dead center of the tail, going up its back, following the line of its spinal cord.

It came closer, the bioluminescence flickering and changing colors. Deep orange seemed to be the main color, switching occasionally to light blue, flashes of pink making their way into the mix. Two tendrils detached from the mass of jellyfish hair, raising as if they had a mind of their own and reaching towards Bobby. Glowing lights blinked on the ends, glowing brighter as they drew nearer.

Bobby raised his hand, wonder clear on his features as one feeler brushed against his gloved hand. It curled around his fingers, a cool, barely-there pressure. He turned his hand over, letting it trail over his knuckles, wondering what it felt like without the glove there, but scared to make any movements that might make it retract.

A shadow loomed overhead, and Bobby looked up. The alien was standing over him, nearly twice his height, but bending over to get a closer look. He felt tiny under the steadfast gaze, three bright eyes watching his every move with as much curiosity as he felt. This close, Bobby could count the spots of light on its torso, like a smattering of glowing freckles, glimmering golden only inches away.

The feeler not currently exploring his hand lifted, drawing closer to Bobby’s face. He watched it carefully, flinching away before it touched his forehead, but stayed still as it came back. It brushed his skin lightly, and Bobby gasped as he saw something.

He closed his eyes, pushing back into the tendril to figure out what happened. As it made contact, images flashed past his mind’s eye, flashes of color and snatches of emotion. He felt something push forward into his mind, a moment of hesitation, as if that something was listening, and then he heard it.

_Hello, Bobby._

His eyes snapped open and he backed away. The alien smiled at his with its weird, lipless mouth, a knowing glint in its solid blue eyes. The tendrils sprouting from its head lowered, but stayed open. An offering.

Bobby gulped, and cautiously returned. This time, he was expecting the weird mental push as the alien regained contact with him. He forced himself to hold eye contact as the connection was made again.

_Apologies for the intrusion,_ the whisper in his mind said. As it spoke, it grew stronger, surer. As if it were learning. _I find this is the only way I may speak to you._

“Are you…” Bobby swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Are you, like, reading my mind right now?” he asked.

The alien nodded, the motion causing the tendril to shift down to his cheek. It curled around his neck, resting over his spinal cord to maintain contact. He felt the agreement in his mind, before hearing it speak again.

_Again, apologies. I would not usually be this… invasive. As it is, I have no way of communicating with you verbally, so I must resort to this._

“What, do you not have vocal chords or something?” Bobby asked, slowly gaining confidence. He relaxed a bit, the feeling of a presence in his mind already becoming familiar.

_Precisely._

“Oh.”

The other tendril released his hand, sliding up his arm, his shoulder, settling around his neck with the other. As it reached the skin of his neck, the connection seemed to grow stronger. The colors that flashed every time Bobby blinked grew brighter, more distracting. Bobby let his eyes linger closed for a moment, bathing in the vibrant colors.

_What’s your name?_ Bobby wondered, not voicing it. He was surprised when he got a response.

_A series of coordinated, nuanced flashes,_ the alien replied, _but as you are a vocal species, you may call me Dane._

Bobby almost opened his eyes in shock again, but refrained. _You can hear me?_ he thought.

_I thought that much was made obvious only moments ago,_ Dane answered, amusement tinging his mental voice. Bobby flushed, screwing his eyes shut again so he didn’t have to see the smug look on the alien’s face. Pink filled his mind’s eye, streaks of gold and warm yellow trimming the borders of his consciousness. It was beautiful, filling Bobby with a sense of happiness he couldn’t quite place.

He felt fingers probing his suit, exploring the strange texture. Bobby’s hands reached up almost of their own accord, grasping Dane’s hands and brushing his knuckles. His gloves were slipped off, dropped to the ground, and Dane twined their fingers together. Curiosity burned in their minds. Bobby wondered what Dane was, what this place was, and the alien in front of him supplied him with images.

A shining city, almost too big to comprehend, spires reaching for the clouds and beyond. Walkways spanned the higher floors, criss-crossing across the bright blue sky, while creatures like Dane mingled and rushed about. The multitude of flashing and colorful lights were beautiful, rapid conversations carried out in a matter of seconds before the participants parted on each their own ways. Hands and tendrils brushed, near strangers sharing thoughts on their way to wherever they went, sharing news in split seconds of contact and glimmering a goodbye on their way away.

Bobby gasped as the images assaulted him, feelings and colors and new information soaking his mind. “Where is it all?” he asked out loud, startling himself. “Where did it go? What happened?”

The images slowed, a sense of loneliness replacing the excitement Dane had been feeling. A moment of hesitation, then another vision played out.

A vague, shadowy figure, taller than those around, surrounded by others of Dane’s kind with their heads bowed, their lights dimmed. A grey hand waved out of the shadows, and the others collapsed, their bioluminescence blinking out completely. Blue lights flashed on the skin of the hidden figure, growing brighter with each extinguished light of the others. Bobby could not see their faces, but he got the strongest sense of unease from the vision as it faded.

_I’m… I’m sorry,_ Bobby thought, squeezing Dane’s hands comfortingly. _How did you survive the attack?_

Dane shook his head, dislodging the tendrils connecting them. Bobby opened his eyes, saw the alien’s features pinched in worry and despair, and abated. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, out loud this time since they were no longer connected mentally. “I won’t ask again.”

Dane nodded, smiling sadly. His large hands slid up Bobby’s arms, slender fingers moving up to cup his face. Bobby felt dwarfed in size by the large alien in front of him, Dane’s hands surrounding his face like a small child’s. One wrong move, and Dane could easily snap his neck. But the alien held him gently, like a precious and fragile piece of glass, stroking his cheeks and hair with delicate fingers.

The tendrils returned, snaking around his wrists and up his arms. With the contact, the colors and feelings returned to his mind. Bobby closed his eyes and sighed, basking in the warm yellow feeling of safety Dane nudging around in his mind brought on. He focused on that golden color, tinged with pink, and mentally pushed against it, wondering what he could do.

Dane’s mind pushed back against him, almost playfully, a cloud of golden yellow and pink, deepening to red, shots of sky blue curiosity and orange pride washing over him, making his physical nerves buzz. Bobby felt giddy as he focused on the colors, the feelings they evoked. He giggled as soft red brushed against him, playful vermillion twining with the yellow affection he felt.

His foot brushed against something and his eyes flickered open, a sheen of gold and blue covering all he saw. Bobby realized he’d been moving, his feet walking of their own accord, Dane walking slowly backwards. The alien was leading him to the pedestal, keeping him close, almost wrapped up in his long arms. Pink flashed in the corner of his vision and Bobby’s eyes slipped closed again.

He moved closer, resting his forehead against Dane’s stomach. The hands that had been cradling his face slid down, encircling his body. Dane lowered himself to the ground, to Bobby’s level, and pressed their foreheads together. His jellyfish hair floated around them, tickling Bobby’s nose, pressing against his cheeks and neck in time with the sparks of gold that flashed in his mind. Bobby caught his breath as he felt something twine around his mind, blue and yellow tendrils sinking into his consciousness and pulling out physical feelings, something sparking up his spine and drawing a low moan from his lips.

Everything stopped. Bobby’s eyes shot open, ready to protest, but the look in Dane’s eyes shut him up.

_Danger, quiet,_ was all he heard in his mind before Dane swept back, pressing back into the shadows. The sudden loss of contact left Bobby feeling empty. He almost whined, about to ask what was wrong, why did Dane just leave like that? But he stopped when he heard footsteps echoing behind him.

He turned around, the sight of his uncle with an armful of dusty looking scrolls greeting him.

“Hey, Bobby!” Press said jovially. He caught a scroll from where it had started to slip, nudging it back on top of the pile. “Found some cool stuff in one of the other rooms. Seems to tell some of the history of this building. Apparently it wasn’t a church, like I was thinking, but more of a royal hall of sorts. Important people used to meet up here and discuss things. Couldn’t figure out much more--I don’t know the language--but I’m sure Patrick could help us figure it out.”

His gaze drifted to where Bobby was kneeling, looking shocked and vaguely out of it. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like a kid who just got their favorite toy taken away.”

Bobby stammered, shooting to his feet and glancing around. “I-I, uh, I’m fine. I just-”

He looked to where Dane was hiding, but he seemed to have turned his bioluminescence off again. He was gone. Bobby remembered the sense of danger he’d been left with right before the alien disappeared, the message to be quiet. Bobby wondered why Dane was so scared of being found out.

“It’s nothing,” he finally said, looking back to his uncle.

Press watched him carefully a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever you say. Let’s get back to the ship. It’s getting late, and I wanna get these translated before we leave. There’s something that looks like a warning on one of these scrolls and I need to know if there was some big disease or something that wiped out the population, and if we need to quarantine ourselves when we get back.” He said it with a smile on his face, so Bobby knew he was joking. Mostly.

“C’mon, they’re waiting for us.” Press shuffled out the front door, carefully balancing the armful of scrolls. “Dinner’s on Elli and Gunny tonight, so you know it’ll be interesting. Don’t wanna miss that.”

Bobby followed, silent. He glanced over his shoulder when he got to the doorway, looking around for Dane to make sure he didn’t imagine all that just happened.

Three pupil-less eyes gazed out at him from a shadow across the room. Nothing else of Dane’s body was visible, but Bobby could feel his smile from even this far away. A hand lit up, faint bioluminescence illuminating the vague shape of a finger, raised to his lips.

Bobby nodded, giddy, and ran out to meet his uncle. “Hey Uncle Press!” he called. “Could we come back tomorrow?”

Press turned, confused. “Uh, I don’t see why not? It’d put off our departure, but it’s not like we have any pressing matters to attend to. Why?”

Bobby shuffled his feet, avoiding the man’s gaze. “Nothing I just, er, wanted to draw the building!” Thinking quickly, he swept his hand out, gesturing to the grand, dilapidated structure. “It’s beautiful, and I wanted to draw it before we left. To give to Siry for his birthday! I know he’d like it.”

Press raised his eyebrow, glancing up at the old building, then back at his nephew. “Sure, why not?” He turned back, continuing back to their ship. “It really is quite stunning. I’m sure he’ll love it. Now let’s get back before Spader sets something on fire. Again.”

Bobby sighed in relief, trotting after his uncle and already planning how to get away from him tomorrow so he could meet the alien. He still had questions, and Dane was the only one with answers.


	13. Of Pirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ive been sitting on this for some months now, and only just now got the motivation to continue it past the four paragraphs that were there. im not overly fond of the ending but you know what, who cares
> 
> thanks to jay for an idea he gave me when i found myself at a loss for where to take this

Robert stood at the bow of his ship and stared out over the sea, lost deep in thought. His crew went about their business as usual behind him- running to and fro, looping rope and tying off sails, laughing and joking and generally in a good mood. They had right to be; after all, they had just completed a successful raid and earned quite a bit from it. Goblins were nasty creatures, but they sure were fond of shiny things.

He breathed in the sea spray and let it out slowly, grinning from ear to ear. His uncle would surely let him keep the ship, now that he'd proven himself a worthy pirate captain. And the crew loved him, which was a nice bonus.

Yes, today had been a good day.

"Land ho!" The call came from above. Up in the crow’s nest, Spader was waving wildly, trying to get his captain’s attention. Robert raised his hand to signal that he heard.

“Siry, your spyglass please,” he asked the passing apprentice navigator. The young boy nodded, dashing off to the side and rummaging through a bag. He came back with the small handheld telescope and after dropping it off with his captain, went back to what he was doing.

Robert looked through the spyglass, peering at the land in the distance. It was fuzzy from this distance, but he could make out a broad rocky shore, a small forest enclosed in the center. No life seemed to be present, though the forest could be harboring small game. Perfect for a camp for the evening; the crew would surely appreciate a night not spent onboard.

He had scarcely opened his mouth to order a preparation to dock, when the crew went dead silent. All movement stopped, the singing chanty that had started up sputtering out. The only sound left was the howling of the wind.

A lone note hung above them. Haunting, serene. The beautiful note dipped with the wind, rising high and fluttering before going silent. It started again, an arpeggio of notes falling on their ears, captivating its audience into stunned silence.

“What… is that?” Robert wondered aloud.

“I don’t know, but it’s beautiful.” The captain turned to look at his crewmate, Gunny, and raised his eyebrow. The usually stone-faced old man was smiling blissfully, a dreamy expression on his leathery face.

“Vincent, you sure you’re alright?” Robert asked, confused.

He nodded. “I’m good, Bobby boy, I’m good…” He stumbled forward, as if the lilting song was pulling him along. Tripping over Aja, the senior navigator who was doing the same thing, he dragged himself over to the railing and leaned over.

With a start, Robert realized what was going on.

Sirens.

“Everyone, get the wax!” he shouted, running to his quarters and grabbing a handful of candles from his deck. He broke off a piece and worked the wax between his fingers, warming it up and making it malleable.

He ran back onto the deck, grabbing the first song-struck sailor he came to. Pulling back first mate Loor’s braids, he shoved the wax in each of her ears, praying he wasn’t too late. If he’d waited too long, the siren’s song wouldn’t leave.

After a moment, she blinked. In a split second she had grabbed his wrist and twisted it, using her considerable strength and stature to twist his arm behind his back.

“What have you done to me?” she asked.

“All is fine, I swear,” Robert said breathlessly, shifting to take the pressure off his arm and turning so she could read his lips. He managed to not drop the rest of his wax. “Sirens. Need to save the crew. Help.”

She understood immediately and let him go. Snatching some of the wax from his hand, she went about the ship, following his lead and plugging the ears of her crewmates.

Robert rushed to save Patrick from jumping overboard, then turned around and grabbed Elli around the waist, hoisting her up and away from the edge. Shoving wax in both their ears, he didn’t stop to explain the situation, running out of time as he was. They caught on quickly enough, staying out of his way and helping keep their friends from danger while their captain ran to and fro. 

Throughout all of this, the siren’s song only grew louder. No one was at the wheel to steer the ship away from the island, so they sailed steadily onward, closer to the maw of the land, the rocky shore where their death awaited. Once he gathered the last of his crew and protected them, wax firmly in their ears, Robert came to a startling realization. His heart dropped.

He was out of wax, and he still hadn’t protected himself.

Loor seemed to realize this too and went to take her wax out, but he put up his hand to stop her. “It’s been this long, there’s no saving me. I command you to stay as you are.”

Loor glared and for a hot minute Robert thought she would disobey him, but she finally lowered her hands from her ears. “You are a foolish man,” she growled.

“Yep,” the captain agreed. “We established that years ago.”

He and the crew waited with bated breath for something to happen. They waited for him to be taken up by the singing that was still going on, to become lovestruck and make a dive for the edge. He knew his crew would hold him back, keep him safe. He was curious. What could a siren possibly sing about? Sex? Robert didn’t much care for that, though it seemed pretty popular among the other pirates.

But the singing remained, and so did Robert.

Confused, he asked Gunny “What did you hear before Loor stopped your ears?”

The man blushed, glancing sidelong at his wife, and shook his head. Elli punched him lightly in the arm.

“Don’t play dumb, you. I heard the same thing and you know it. Just tell the captain you were entranced by singing of promises of good sex and let it be.”

Gunny shrugged and gestured at her. “She hit the nail on the head, Bobby.”

Looking around at his crew, all Robert got back were nods. They had all heard the same thing apparently. Actual singing, about something he was completely uninterested in.

“I’ve heard nothing but wordless singing,” he finally said. “Maybe that’s why it’s not working on me?”

The singing suddenly stopped, leaving the crew in a confused silence. The silence hung heavy in the air a moment, before a voice sounded across the waves.

“ _So my singing doesn’t work on you.”_

Robert jerked, the voice clear and melodic in its own right, loud, and directed at him. Though the intent of the singing was lost on him, the force of the magic behind the words was there. And they sounded dangerous.

 _“Don’t worry, I am no danger to you,”_ the voice of the siren continued, contradicting its very nature with that sentence. _“You are… fascinating. Able to elude my power. I would keep you around a bit longer for that.”_

“You guys hearing this?” the captain asked, looking around at his crew.

Spader shrugged. “We’ve got nothing, mate.”

“Not even the muffled singing from before,” Alder added. “It’s all quiet here.”

Robert stared out over the ocean, towards the rapidly approaching shore. Now that they were closer, he could see a dark cave set in the rocks. A lone figure was curled there, long, silver hair fluttering out behind in the sea spray. Its features were lost in the distance, but Robert would bet all the gold he had that it was the siren.

Walking to the bow of the ship, Robert cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, loud enough for the siren so far away to hear. “No thanks! We’ll be on our way! Have a good day!” He turned to Gunny. “Get us the hell out of here.”

The man nodded and immediately went to the wheel, spinning it and setting them on a course to avoid the island. The crew went back about their business, silently, waiting for their captain’s signal that they could clear their ears of the sticky wax.

Robert waited a good half hour before he gave that signal. By then, the island was far behind them, with no chance for the siren’s magic to take ahold of them.

Or so he thought.

* * *

A fortnight later, Robert was resting in his bunk at the end of a long day when he heard the singing. Formless, wordless, it was beautiful, and put him on guard immediately.

He crept out of his cabin, following the trail in the air the voice left. The rest of his crew was fast asleep for the night, so unless there were any late-night dwellers, they should be fine. It would be best for him to chase the creature away, though, just in case.

The siren was onboard, lounging on the edge of the deck, completely oblivious to the slowly moving captain. Or so it seemed. As soon as Robert stepped into the moonlight, the creature turned, smiling serenely at him. Robert caught his breath.

Silvery, shimmering skin, with hair that glowed in the moonlight and two ice chips for eyes greeted him. Delicate fins decorated his face and arms- for it was definitely a _he_ , if Robert’s anatomy lessons as a boy were correct. A long, light blue tail, covered in glittering scales, trailed in the water. Everything about the siren was ethereal, beautiful, and Robert could definitely see why other sailors would fall to their knees for such a creature.

 _“There you are,”_ he sang, speaking prose with such poetry in his voice Robert felt his heart flutter. “ _I was wondering if my music fell on deaf ears.”_

“No, I just…” Robert trailed off, at a loss for words. “Saints, you’re beautiful. And I’m not even into that.”

The siren laughed, a low, rumbling sound that contrasted his high singing voice beautifully. _“Saint,”_ he repeated. _“Sounds lovely. You can call me that, if you want.”_

Snapped out of his reverie, Robert laughed. “‘Saint the siren’. Yeah, my clergyman of an uncle would take that just _swimmingly_.”

Smirking, the siren said “ _Alright then, jester. How about Dane? I have been called such before.”_

“Dane,” Robert murmured, offering his hand. When the creature took it, he lifted his hand to his lips. “Pleased to meet you. I am Robert.” He sank to his knees, kneeling beside the siren so he wouldn’t be looking down on him.

Dane hummed, shaking his head. His long silver hair fell over his eyes. “ _Too formal. May I call you Bobby? After all, we know each other so well.”_

Bobby shrugged and reached over to tuck the fallen hair behind a fin. “You can call me whatever you wish. But may I ask this: why did you follow us, if only to get to know me?”

 _“Just that. To get to know you.”_ Dane interlaced their fingers, leaning in. _“You are such a fascinating human. In two decades, no pirate has resisted my call but you. You must be a magical creature of some kind. Perhaps fae blood runs through your veins?”_

Bobby laughed again, shaking his head. “I wish,” he said. “No, it is something much more mundane. I’m just ace.”

The siren blinked. _“That. Makes more sense, honestly. You said you did not hear my singing at all?”_

“I heard singing, just no words.”

“ _Interesting…”_ The siren looked thoughtful, then shrugged. _“Nevertheless, I find it in my duty to seduce every man, woman, or neuter that comes my way. You are no different.”_

He leaned forward, cold lips ghosting along the shell of Bobby’s ear. _“I will just have to employ a different method with you. Should be interesting.”_

Bobby caught his breath as long fingers tilted his chin to the side. Those cool, slightly wet lips pressed briefly against his own, sliding pleasantly against the chapped surface of his lips, before disappearing. He blinked, and the siren was gone, naught but a splash in the water.

It would be another week before he saw Dane again, and Bobby found he looked forward to then.


	14. Of Spies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is fairly short but i saw this prompt on tumblr that was about a spy trying to seduce a target and failing miserably bc the target has such low self worth 'why would this person *ever* wanna have sex with me?' and i loved it so i did it 
> 
> i also hate the ending but whats new there

“What brings you here?”

Dane, codename: Saint, prided himself on his ability to seduce. He had practiced for many years, working hard on differing methods and tactics, to bring even the most straight-laced or devoted to their knees. It was an art, really. And Dane saw himself as quite the artist.

Which was why when his words, whispered huskily into the ear of his mark--a shy looking young man by the name of Bobby Pendragon, brown hair, worn hoodie, who was thought to have information regarding the Solara Case--didn’t immediately make him flush, he was quite confused. Bobby simply turned, surprised, and looked around the club they were in as if to determine that yes, this heavily attractive man was indeed talking to _him._

“I, uh, I’m chaperoning my sister’s twenty-first,” he finally said, gesturing over to the bar. A young woman downed another shot among a group of friends. It was easy to tell she had just come of age; there were only two glasses in front of her, and she was already looking tipsy.

Dane hummed lightly, making sure his breath ghosted over the other’s ear. Tracing a finger down his chest, for Bobby had turned to look at him, the undercover spy looked at his mark with hooded eyes.

“So you going anywhere later?” he asked breathlessly. He fluttered his eyelashes.

“Yeah, I gotta take Shannon home, then go back to my place to study for tomorrow’s test in Anatomy.”

That was _way_ too good an opening for it to be accidental, or truthful. But the oblivious look on the shorter man’s face spoke a different story. Dane almost laughed- _almost_ . He held it in, keeping his facade, and tried again. “Why don’t I come with, help you out a little. I’m sure there’s a thing or two I could teach you about… _anatomy._ ”

Bobby finally seemed to get the message, if the sudden root-deep blush was any indication. “N-No, I’m ah, I-I’m good,” he barely managed to stutter out. “Besides, there are, u-uh, better looking people you could, that you could b-bed.”

Dane did laugh at this, the absurdity of the situation and the way Bobby had phrased it getting to him. “ _Bed?_ ” he asked, facade all but gone. The look on the man’s face made him laugh harder, forcing him to step away so he could cover his mouth.

“Oh, shit. Of course you- I mean, of course that’s not what you…” Bobby trailed off awkwardly, his face paling, a worried look in his eyes. He looked away, looking defeated. “My bad. Of course you meant something else. I’m sorry for assuming.”

Dane raised an eyebrow, decidedly confused, but still with a smile on his face. “What do you mean?”

Bobby shrugged, clutching at his arm and curling in on himself. “Well, I mean. You probably did mean to help me out or something. I mean, who would-” he stopped himself, glaring at nothing in particular. “Never mind.”

The smile dropped. “No, you were absolutely correct on your first assumption. I intended to bed you, but now I worry. Are you quite alright?”

The blush was back, and Bobby tried to back away. “I-I’m fine. You, uh, really- you r-really don’t have t-to do this, you know. There’s probably so m-many other people, more a-attractive people you could do- uh, _that_ with.”

Dane put a hand on the man’s shoulder, stopping him. Bobby jerked away at first, then subconsciously leaned into the touch. He wouldn’t meet the taller man’s eyes. “You don’t _have_ to, to do this,” Bobby said.

“But what if I want to?” Dane murmured, and found he spoke the truth. Beyond his assignment, he now _wanted_ this, if only to give a little self-confidence to the poor man. And hey, the attractive way his hair fell in his eyes was definitely a bonus. No one could resist that kicked-puppy look, even if Bobby seemed to think otherwise.

“Come, let me get you a drink first,” Dane finally decided. “I’ll do this properly, if  you want. Anything to make you comfortable.”

Bobby nodded, seeming shocked. He followed the undercover spy wordlessly to the bar, near enough to his sister to keep an eye on her. He gulped, then asked “A-Actually, not to, uh, take advantage of your kindness, but uh, if you don’t m-mind, can that drink actually be s-something to eat instead? I’m, I’m supposed to drive Shannon home later.”

“Of course,” Dane replied. “Anything you want, I’ll get it for you. I understand completely.”

“Oh thank god,” Bobby said, relieved. “I thought you were gonna be one of those guys who would get mad at that suggestion, only wanting to get me inebriated to get into my p-pants, or uh, something…” He trailed off, embarrassed at the outburst.

Dane was appalled. “I would _never_ ,” he said. “I only have your best interests at heart. And if it turns out you don’t want to stay with me tonight, I would be fine with that change as well. If you don’t want to, we won’t.”

Bobby seemed to take this as an admission of something else and got pouty again. Dane sighed and leaned in, trailing his nose along the man’s neck.

“ _I_ still want to, of course, I just don’t wish to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do.”

Bobby’s throat bobbed. “O-Of course.”

They ended up talking for the rest of the night. Dane traveled with them when Bobby went to take his sister home, drunk off life and having had the best birthday she could remember (which wasn’t much). She tried to drunkenly flirt with Dane, who politely declined. She remained latched onto him until they got to her house, at which point she finally abated.

They set off for Bobby’s apartment across town. Every block, his anxiety seemed to ratchet up another notch. He was so clearly worried about tonight, that when Dane broke the silence by asking if he was alright, he almost shouted “I’m fine!”

When they arrived, they sat in silence in the parked car for a full minute before Bobby made a move. He seemed to steel himself, then pushed over and kissed Dane roughly. He missed his mark, ending up kissing the edge of his mouth instead, and backed away hurriedly.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!”

He leaned forward, panicked, about to try again, when Dane put a hand on his shoulder to steady him and stop him. Bobby tried to jerk away, eyes wide, breathing hard, but Dane stopped him there too. A whine was building in the other man’s throat, and if the he didn’t do something fast, well, Bobby was on his way to a panic attack.

“Bobby, Bobby!” Dane shouted. “Calm down!”

He clamped his mouth shut and stopped breathing.

Dane sighed. “Jesus, man, breathe! _Breathe!”_

Bobby’s breath came out in a _whoosh_. He was shaking all over. Dane rubbed his back, staying silent until he calmed down enough to hear him.

“Bobby, I told you,” he began after a few minutes had passed. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. _Anything._ Let’s go watch a movie, or something else, instead. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.”

The shorter man nodded wordlessly and got out of the car. Dane followed suit, following him inside.

They didn’t do much that night, but there were many more.

And they did practice anatomy, though not in _that_ way.


	15. Of Were-wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so productive
> 
> credit for the idea to geekwithtea on the discord channel. i needed to do a cryptid!bobby one, they gave me an idea for a cryptid!bobby one. thanks buddy!
> 
> also i am definitely continuing this, no doubt

Dane was determined to catch this wolf-man if it was the last thing he did.

Traveling far north to Connecticut for an assignment was absurd, in any other case. Most of the time, the sightings were of sasquatches (which were too common) or the ‘sighting’ was something vague. Dane couldn’t go off of “I saw a tail in my backyard. I don’t even have a dog!”

But the other day, as he sat at the park, surfing his usual sites, he came across an account that seemed far too realistic. Clicking through, it led to a video of someone stalking a man into the woods.

At first, he almost wrote it off as a hoax, but then the man in the video transformed. The screaming as the agonizing transformation happened was so realistic, so loud that Dane had to turn his speakers down lest someone get overly curious. He watched raptly as the man’s bones shifted, churning through his flesh until a fully-grown wolf stood before the camera.

“Whoa,” the person filming said, then gasped as the wolf-man turned, red eyes set dead on them.

They cursed and ran, chased by the howling beast. They obviously knew the woods well, as they managed to barely outrun the beast. Making it safely to a public area, the panting filmer turned back to the woods, where at the edge, the man-turned-beast prowled.

He huffed, snarling at the camera, then turned tail and ran back into the woods.

Dane shut his computer, thinking hard. This was the best lead he’d had in years, and unless the maker was a particularly good editor, it was real. He hadn’t seen the face of the werewolf before he turned, so he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye out in town, but that was fine. He’d done more than his fair share of steak-outs, one more couldn’t hurt. And if he caught this wolf-man, then he could finally get that grant for his research.

Opening the computer again, he checked the date of the sighting. It was almost a month ago. Good. He looked at his watch and smiled. Three more days until the next full moon. Should give him enough time to scout the place out, find a good vantage point to catch the beast. And that vantage point would be in…

“Stony Brook, Connecticut?” Dane groaned. That was nearly halfway across the country from him. _Ugh._ Well, that new camera would have to wait. He needed to get there, and soon.

* * *

Now, three days later found him waiting in line at a place called Garden Poultry, starving after a five-hour flight that had been delayed another two hours beforehand. It was late afternoon, and the place was obviously popular, if the number of teenagers milling about was any indication.

Dane was just about to walk off, disgusting greasy sandwich and fries in hand, when someone literally ran into him. He dropped his meal, cursing, and turned to glare at the perpetrator.

A short man (compared to him, at least), with messy brown hair and wide eyes that matched, started apologizing profusely. “I totally didn’t see you there man, I am _so_ sorry!” he said breathlessly. His arms were full of bags and boxes, all from the restaurant they were outside of. He shifted the load in his arms, offering a box of fries. “Here, have one of mine. I’m really sorry man.”

“It is fine,” Dane growled, reigning in his temper and taking the offered box begrudgingly. It looked about as appetizing as the one on the ground. “Why do you have so much food, anyways?” he asked.

The man looked around nervously. “I’m, uh, preparing for a study cram tonight. Gotta keep myself fed all night, prepare for a big test tomorrow, you know?”

“No.”

He laughed awkwardly. “Never mind, don’t worry about it. What about you? You look like an out-of-towner. What brings you to our lovely little town?”

“Research,” Dane replied, clipped.

The other waited, obviously for Dane to continue, but he gave nothing more. “O-kay,” he said. “Well, it was nice to meet you, mister…?”

“Dane.”

“Dane. Gotcha,” the man said. “My name’s Bobby. I’d offer to shake your hand but-”

“Bobby!” a voice called. A woman elbowed her way through the crowd, another shy-looking man trailing behind her. They looked like complete opposites- the woman tall, strong, and striking, while the man shorter and fairly scrawny, looking like he belonged in a Star Wars fanclub than at the side of the goddess beside him.

The woman punched Bobby in the arm, almost making him drop his food. “What’s taking you so long? Mark and I are waiting.”

The man named Mark nodded. “Yeah, you’ve got our food somewhere under there, and we’re also hungry. I know you’ve got your whole ‘thing’ tonight, but you can’t steal _our_ food too just because you’re a w-”

The woman elbowed him and gestured at Dane. Clearly she wanted his to shut up about something, though she’d done so before Dane could figure out what it was.

“Shit, Courtney, that hurt,” Mark muttered.

The woman, Courtney it seemed, sighed. “Dumbass,” she said fondly. “Anyways, Bobby, say goodbye to your friend here and come on or our spots in the pocket park will be taken before we get there.”

Bobby nodded and turned back to Dane. “Was nice meeting you,” he said. “Gotta go. Bye.”

Dane watched the strange trio go without another word. They were soon lost to the crowd, as if the encounter never happened. The only evidence left was Dane’s original food on the ground, and the new, gifted meal in his hands. He scoffed and left for his hotel, putting the encounter out of his mind. He needed to focus on the task at hand.

Tonight, he would catch a werewolf.

* * *

Dane cursed quietly and slapped at another mosquito. He fumbled with his camera, setting it on the ground gently and went to rub at the spot. Making a face, he wiped his hands on his jeans and picked the camera back up.

It was creeping on six in the morning, and he’d had no sight of the wolf-man. Having been there since late evening, Dane had at least expected a glimpse of something supernatural; if not the beast he was after, something like a wisp. Those were common enough. Pretty, too. Seeing one would make this whole miserable trip at least slightly better, but nope. Everything was either asleep or away, and Dane was getting irritated.

He was beginning to think he’d picked the wrong part of the woods to observe, when suddenly, a bone-chilling howl began. It was solitary, almost lonesome, and echoed through the trees. Leaves rustled, and a dark brown blur raced under the tree Dane was hiding in.

He fumbled with the camera again, struggling to get it up and in position in time to take a picture. A branch snapped near him and the wolf stopped, ears perked. Dane froze.

The creature was about human sized, with messy brown fur. It wore the shredded remains of blue jeans and a green shirt, tucked awkwardly around the animalistic bone structure of the wearer. A watch looped loosely around one wrist, and the wolf took great care to make sure it stayed on.

It tilted its nose to the sky and sniffed, trying to gain the scent of the creature that made the sound it heard. Dane stayed absolutely still, thanking whatever gods listening that he was downwind of the beast.

It shook its head vigorously and trotted off into the bushes, and Dane released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

The wolf leapt out of the bushes, straight at his tree.

Dane bit his tongue to hold in his scream as the thing scrabbled at the bark, hauling itself up to the lowest branch. It had a good ten feet to where Dane was sitting, but it obviously had experience climbing, if how fast it scaled the tree was any indication. His head whipped from side to side, trying to find an escape route. His eyes alighted on the branch of a nearby tree and he dove for it without thinking.

He managed to hook his arms around the branch before gravity took over, yanking his body down. The branch creaked under his weight, but held. Dane cursed as he heard his three hundred dollar camera crash to the ground, but pushed it out of his mind. He had more important things to worry about. Like the wolf that was currently prowling along the ground mere ten feet underneath him.

It prepared to jump again, but needn’t have worried. For at that moment, the branch Dane was so precariously holding onto snapped, sending him falling to certain death.

He fell directly onto the beast, causing it to yelp in surprise and pain. Dane’s arm came up trapped between them, and he winced, feeling it strain but thankfully not break. He would be one big bruise tomorrow, if he survived that long.

He scrambled up and away from the wolf-man, snatching his hunting knife out of his boot and holding it between them. The wolf staggered to its feet, red eyes crossed, and stumbled towards him. It regained its senses before he was forced to swipe, and backed away.

Unhooking the tranquilizer gun from his belt, he held it aloft, next to the knife. “Easy, boy,” he said quietly. “Don’t want to get shot with this, do you?”

The werewolf seemed to recognize the gun and whimpered, slinking back. It looked ready to run. “Don’t you dare try to escape, either,” Dane hissed. “You are coming with me.”

He was about to reach for the net tied up at his waist, when he was suddenly blinded by a bright light. Dropping the gun and knife, he covered his eyes and cursed loudly.

He was doing a lot of that lately, he idly noticed.

He was saved from being ripped to shreds by a yelp. Shielding his eyes from the sudden sunrise, Dane managed to witness a terrifying and agonizing sight: the transformation of wolf to man.

The werewolf howled, the sound turning into a very human scream as it continued. Fur shortened, then disappeared into pale skin, except on the head, where it lengthened. Bones cracked and groaned as they shifted, joints shattering and rebuilding themselves in mere moments. The lengthened snout shrank, becoming a small and sharp nose, wrinkled in pain. Red eyes shifted to brown, and the teeth that were bared in all their sharp glory blunted until they were standard for a human.

The most terrifying part of the whole process to Dane, though, was that he recognized the man that lay before him when it was through.

Bobby’s head shot up, a look of extreme panic on his face. He scrambled to his feet, stumbled and fell, then shuffled back on the dead leaves. He looked about ready to cry.

“Don’t- don’t fucking touch me,” he tried to growl, but the deep, horrifying edge his wolf form had had in its voice was gone, and all that came out was a squeak. Dane almost laughed, but the horror of what had just happened and his surprise at the recognition hadn’t quite worn off.

The silence hung heavy in the air for a moment, until Dane finally managed to whisper “Bobby?”

The man was an explosion of movement. Jumping to his feet, he cried “Please don’t tell anyone Mark and Courtney are the only ones that know and if the town finds out they’ll come after me with torches and pitchforks I mean that’s what happens in the movies and I swear I’ve never killed anyone or ate anything rarer than a steak at Ruby Tuesday’s and please oh god please don’t tell my parents I know I wasn’t supposed to be playing in the woods that night but I was so _curious_ and now if they find out they’ll be so _mad_ and oh my god I’ll do anything you want just please _please_ don’t tell anyone!” He finally ran out of breath and collapsed oh his scabby knees in front of Dane.

Another long silence, filled only with Bobby’s hitching breaths and gasping tears, passed, before Dane spoke again. “Anything…?” he murmured.

“Anything I _swear_.” Bobby gasped. “Just please for the love of everything _don’t tell anyone_ what I am!”

“Alright,” Dane hesitated. This would be incredibly cruel, even for him, but the man had said ‘anything’. “You are to come with me. For one day, I will study you and perform as many tests on you as I can fit in, starting some time before you transform, and ending immediately after you turn back. If I remember correctly from my studies, a were’s transformations last from the night before the full moon to the night after. Am I correct?”

Bobby nodded and gulped. “I still have one more day left. But uh, you mentioned, um, t-tests?”

“Yes,” Dane said, crazed smirk growing. “Many, many, horrible tests. I am a cryptozoologist, after all, and studying the weird is my life’s work. And for the first time, I have a live were-creature in my possession! There is so much I can learn from you, boy, you have no idea.”

Bobby gulped again. He was shivering. “Please don’t hurt me,” he whispered.

“Oh, none of my tests will hurt you,” Dane drawled, stepping towards the frightened wolf-man. “...much.”

The look on his face was hilarious, and Dane finally cracked. The mad scientist facade fell away and he laughed, leaning over his knees to catch his breath back. Bobby looked confused and worried, but less so as time went on and Dane kept laughing. He actually started to chuckle as well.

“Wow, heh, got me there,” he said nervously. “Sure thought for a second there you were gonna cut me open on some lab table.”

“No, I am not that barbaric,” Dane replied, still chuckling. “I would never do something that horrifying. At least not at first.” He burst out laughing again as the scared expression returned to Bobby’s face. “You are _so_ gullible, it’s adorable.”

“I am not adorable!” Bobby crossed his arms and huffed, looking every bit the thing he said he wasn’t. “I’m a terrifying creature of the night. Fear me.”

Dane laughed all the way to the edge of the woods, Bobby trotting after him. He gathered his things and threw them in the backseat of his car, gesturing for Bobby to get in. He did so, reluctantly.

“I will take you by your place for a change of clothes. Tell your parents you are going out with some friends, perhaps those two you were with earlier yesterday. You are having a ‘sleepover’ or something, tonight with them, or so they will believe. I promise I will get you back in one piece, and unless you tell them, they will be none the wiser. Of course,” he added slyly, “if you tell them, you will also be revealing your own little secret.”

Bobby blanched, but nodded. He ran inside when they parked, then came out a minute later, towing a backpack and in a new and cleaner outfit. “They’re out right now, so I left a note. That good?”

“It is fine,” Dane said curtly. “Let’s go.”


	16. Of Baking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall long time no see, well here i am with another chapter based on sort of personal experiences? well i mean i wish id met a cute guy through it but nah its just me at home with too many muffins to eat

Dane looked up from his computer at the hurried knock on his door. Checking the clock on the display, he raised an eyebrow. Three AM. He closed the laptop and set it aside, wondering who in the world would be knocking on his apartment door at this late hour. 

Before he opened the door, he stopped and listened, hearing footsteps running away from the door. He glared at nothing, realizing it was probably what they called a ‘ding-dong ditch’. He debated not even opening the door, but sighed and did it anyways. No harm in checking. 

Dane was very glad he did. Sitting innocuously on his front doorstep was a plastic tray of muffins, red velvet from the looks of it. They had swirls of something dark in them, almost marbled in texture, which from the smell of things was some sort of chocolate. 

The man looked around, but the stairwell and breezeway were empty, devoid of the person who left the treats. 

Dane shrugged and picked up the tray, holding it delicately as he nudged the door shut with his foot, not bothering to relock it. He debated dumping the muffins in the trash, as he had no idea what could have been mixed into the batter or who the culprit who left them at his door was. For all he knew, it could be some rowdy teen who slipped razorblades into them and all he would get out of this was a mouthful of blood. 

Again, he made a bad decision and set them on his counter instead. Picking one up, he sniffed it before taking a small bite. Rich chocolate and red velvet flooded his senses, and Dane moaned. These really were delicious, and before he knew it, he had devoured two of them and was starting a third. 

He hesitated, setting it down. Someone had done this deliberately. They had left something delicious at his door, for him to eat, and obviously didn’t wish to be known. He wanted to thank them somehow, but he had no way of knowing who to thank. He didn’t know his neighbors all too well, never bothering with introducing himself to most of them, but not being impolite when they extended hands of greetings to him. 

Dane shook his head. Figuring this was the best solution, he set the muffins on a plate on his counter and returned the tray outside, setting it on the table just outside and to the side of his door, next to the potted cactus he tended. He found a post-it note and scribbled a quick thanks, sticking it to the tray, and stepped back inside. It was getting late after all, and he had work in the morning. 

* * *

He grabbed a muffin on his way out the door and smiled when he saw the tray and note were gone. Taking a bite of the muffin, he turned the corner to the stairs and nearly bumped into someone. Taking a step back, he smiled politely.

“My apologies. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” 

The man in front of him stuttered, eyes on the muffin in his hand before shooting up to meet Dane’s own blue ones. “Y-Yeah, no, it’s good. I’m fine. Th-thanks.” 

Dane narrowed his eyes at the man. “You look familiar. Do I know you?” 

The man shrugged and gestured over his shoulder. “I dunno. I’m Bobby, I live with my uncle in the flat below you.” 

It clicked. “Ah, you’re Press’s boy, aren’t you?” Press was an old college friend of Dane’s, the one who suggested the good rent of the apartment complex they currently lived in. They rarely spoke, though they were on pretty okay terms. He knew Press had a nephew, he talked about him endlessly whenever they did talk, but he’d never met the boy before. Apparently he’d been doing some growing since the last time he and Press had spoke. “How old are you now? How’s your uncle been?” 

“Uncle Press’s been good,” Bobby said, looking anywhere but Dane’s expressive gaze. “He got a new job teaching ancient history at the nearby college. And uh, my birthday was actually this past week. I turned twenty-three, though I still look like I’m a teenager, ha.” 

Dane nodded, then started. He looked at his watch and cursed. “Again, my apologies, but I’m running late. We should continue this conversation another time. It was lovely meeting you, Bobby.” He held out his hand for the man to shake, which he took after a moment of hesitation. 

“Nice meeting you too,” Bobby said, then promptly hightailed it out of there. Dane chuckled as he fled, clearly intimidated by the older man. He shook his head, then continued as he was before, down the stairs. 

He had a job to do. 

* * *

When he got home, to his endless surprise, there was another tray of sweets awaiting him. This time, it was cookies, and as he got closer he realized they were macadamia nut, his favorite.

As he bent over to retrieve them, he heard something behind him and turned around. The edge of a brown jacket whipped around the corner and Dane took a half step to follow, but hesitated. Whoever was doing this clearly didn’t want to be known, as he had already concluded. But should he find out instead? 

He was too late to catch them this time, but he as he bit into one of the cookies and found it still warm and gooey on the inside, he determined he was going to find out anyways and thank them properly. 

* * *

The cookies found their way onto his counter right next to the dwindling muffins, as did the  dark chocolate cupcakes, strawberry crepes, and half a chocolate bundt cake (he didn’t ask where the other half had gone).

It had been a week and Dane still had yet to figure out who this mysterious baker was. He nearly caught them on more than one occasion, but only flashes of clothing or retreating feet were the sights he was rewarded with, even after chasing them down the stairs and into the parking lot. He had a feeling the person had hidden in a car, but he couldn’t figure out which one, and didn’t want to search them all like a creep. 

He was becoming fond of the culprit, despite the frustrating chase they were leading him on. They obviously knew all his favorite types of sweets, and were a very good baker. They also seemed to live close, close enough to know when he was home or would be soon, since he always received the food warm and fresh. 

It was a mystery, and Dane was fairly glad it had popped up when it did. Things were starting to get boring, and this was the perfect sort of event to spice them up. 

* * *

Dane was folding laundry in the living room, TV turned low in the background, when a feeling hit him in the chest so strongly he gasped. Something was about to happen, and he knew if he didn’t act soon, he would miss it.

He dashed to the door and threw it open just in time to see a surprised Bobby reaching out to knock, tray of cheesecake in his hand headed for the table. 

They stood in silence for a moment before Bobby finally broke it. 

_ “Shit.” _

Dane laughed out loud, incredulous. “It was you the whole time?” 

Blushing furiously, Bobby looked down and nodded. 

“Wow. Just, wow.” Dane laughed again. “You are an amazing cook, I wanted to tell you. I never had the chance, since you were so determined to hide, but- why did you do it, anyways?” he asked. “Why all this, why for me?” 

Bobby shrugged noncommittally, but Dane could see he was hiding something. “I dunno man, I’m like a stress baker in college and had too much time on my hands and too many essays I didn’t wanna focus on and yeah basically I might have asked Uncle Press if he knew anyone with a sweet tooth who might want six metric tons of sweets delivered straight to their door.” 

He finally stopped to take a breath and Dane chuckled. “Well, I am certainly glad you asked when you did. All the food you’ve given me has been absolutely delicious and I wanted to thank you personally.” He set the cheesecake in Bobby’s hands aside, took those hands in his own and looked him in the eye. “Thank you.” 

Bobby seemed starstruck, which was quite funny, though Dane held his laughter in this time. He couldn’t tell you why, but something about this moment felt important. 

They held contact for a beat longer than necessary, before Bobby snatched his hands away and shoved them in his hoodie pockets. “S-so, well, I mean-” He coughed, then tried again. “Well, if you like them so much, I g-guess I’ll keep bringing them around?” 

It was phrased as a question, a request Dane could refuse if he so chose. He chose not to. “I would love that, though I would make a request of my own: let me repay you somehow.” 

Bobby shook his head feverently. “No, no don’t do that. This would have happened anyways, what with me being a senior in college and all and a stress baker and- yeah, no, don’t bother. Uncle Press buys all my ingredients anyways. Just enjoy them, that’s payment enough.” 

By the end of his rant he was blushing furtively again, which Dane found quite cute. He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts and smiled politely. “If you insist,” he said, though he already had plans to give money to Press to slip into his wallet or something, next time he saw the man. 

“Well, I better be off,” Bobby said quickly, picking up the cheesecake and shoving it in Dane’s hands. “I got class in like, an hour, and I still haven’t finished that take-home test we were given before the weekend, so yeah, see ya!” He all but ran down the breezeway, hopping down the stairs and disappearing in an instant. 

Dane smiled to himself, glancing down at the delicious-smelling cheesecake and making a decision to invite the man in for some next time he came by. 


End file.
